A Mirror Darkly
by MizJoely
Summary: A darker Jareth and Sarah story; what happens when the Goblin King finally decides on the proper revenge for being bested? And how will things shake out once an old girlfriend shows up to complicate things?
1. Prologue

**A Mirror Darkly: A Labyrinth Story of Love and Revenge**

It was the day after Sarah Williams' twenty-first birthday, and her friends still hadn't come to visit her. Not her human friends, of course, who had attended her combination going-away and birthday bash two nights ago; her friends from the Labyrinth. Her friends that somehow traversed the magical boundary between the world of humans and the world of the Fae, who had faithfully kept her company and visited her whenever she needed them for six years.

It was her last week at home; she was going to spend her final undergraduate semester abroad, studying European folklore before heading off to graduate school. She stood before her mirror, examining her reflection. She looked the same, so her friends from the Underground kept assuring her, but she saw the differences. She was older, even if "older" in this case meant "barely legal" but she could see it even if they couldn't. Maybe it had something to do with being so unchanging themselves, but she loved them for seeing her as they always had.

Not that she had anything to complain about; she certainly was far from being a wrinkly old hag. Hell, she was far from being ugly, may as well be honest with herself; she'd received enough compliments on her eyes and waist-length brown hair and features in general that she knew, even without the evidence of the mirror, that she'd Turned Out Well.

"Oh, aren't we modest," she mocked herself, then shook off the odd mood that had overtaken her. "Hey guys, last chance to see me off before the big trip!" she called, then stepped back, waiting to greet them.

And waited. And waited some more; frowning, she stepped back to the mirror. "Guys? Are you in there? Hello? Ludo? Hoggle? Sir Didymus?"

No one appeared, either in her room or in the mirror. She felt a stirring of concern; they'd never been late for a party before, and this was the last one to be held in her own room, the last one before standing in front of a foreign mirror in a foreign college dormitory. "Guys?"

A sharp bark from behind her caused her to spin around. "Ambrosias!" she cried, going down on one knee to pet Sir Didymus' noble "steed." He wasn't saddled, and warning bells went off at the sight of him looking like a normal dog instead of the mount for a fox-like goblin Don Quixote. "Where is everybody, boy?"

He barked again, then whined and lifted a paw beseechingly. Then he scampered away from her, rearing up on his hind legs to lean on her vanity table and paw at the mirror. "Something's wrong," she said. "I get that now. The only question is, what?" She peered into the mirror's depths as if sheer force of will would allow her to see past her reflection.

No such luck. Ambrosias sat back on his haunches, facing her and panting. Just like an ordinary dog. And, like an ordinary dog, he couldn't do anything to bring her into the world of the Labyrinth. Not that she really wanted to go back there; she'd learned to appreciate the world she'd been born into, and was happy for her friends to visit her rather than risk going Underground to see them.

She shivered. If it wasn't for _him_, she might be willing to visit there.

Him. The Goblin King. Instinctively, she knew he had something to do with this. Instinct also told her there was only one way to confirm it. One way, the only way, the way she didn't want to try. But for the sake of her friends, she would risk anything.

Even seeing Jareth again.

Taking a deep breath, she said the words she'd never expected to voice. "I wish the Goblin King would come to me."

* * *

_A/N: Yeah, I know, I haven't even finished my other Labyrinth story and here I am starting another! Call me inspired, what can I say. Inspired, I might had, directly by one review of "Mirror Friend, Mirror Foe" in particular. So thank you, sanna B. for giving me incentive to think up the much darker version of Jareth that will appear in this story!_


	2. Careful What You Wish For

**oOo**

Her image in the mirror wavered and disappeared. Just like that, Jareth was there. Glaring at her. "What can I do for you, Sarah Williams?" he asked, his voice cold and dangerous. "You've already made it quite clear how little you desire my presence in your life. Why call for me now?"

"What happened to Ludo and Hoggle and Sir Didymus?" she demanded before she lost her nerve. "Why haven't they come to visit me? Did you forbid them?" Behind her, Ambrosias whined and ducked under the bed. Clearly this hadn't been the tactic he'd expected her to try.

Jareth ignored the goblin-dog, shrugging and examining his fingers as if looking for specks of dirt on the immaculate black of his gloves. "Why should I forbid them anything? They've long since proven themselves unwilling to do as I command them; they're your creatures more than mine and have been ever since you ran the Labyrinth."

"Then where are they?" Sarah cried.

"Where are they? As the saying goes, that's for me to know and you to find out," Jareth replied, lips crooked in a cruel parody of a smile. "Would you care to try the Labyrinth again to find them? I'll gladly give you thirteen hours."

She shrank back. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered, bewildered by his attitude. Sure, he'd never exactly been kindly, but he claimed to have done everything _she_ wanted when he'd taken Toby six years ago. Apparently he was no longer interested in playing by her rules.

Suddenly the image in the mirror was gone, replaced by Jareth's presence in her room. Standing in front of her, his glare was even more intense, his mismatched eyes even more hypnotizing than she remembered. He was dressed all in black except for his snow-white shirt, of which only the cuffs and collar showed beneath his jacket, vest and trousers, black gloves and knee-high boots completing the ensemble. Sarah felt dowdy in her jeans and t-shirt, sneakers and ankle socks.

He stepped forward, his smile deepening as she took an unconscious step back. Then her spine straightened and her head snapped up. "I didn't ask you in."

"I don't need your permission to enter your world and never have," was the disconcerting reply. "My only constraints are on bringing you back to the Underground. If you don't wish for it, I can't do it."

He took another step closer; Sarah held her ground, fighting back the urge to turn and run. He had so much more presence than she remembered, and she'd been overawed when she'd last seen him, a fifteen-year-old girl well over her head but knowing she had to fight and win in order to save her baby brother. "But you will wish for it," he breathed, leaning down to meet her eyes with his own. He lifted his hand and ran his finger down her cheek. She flinched away, but not before feeling a shiver run down her spine, half of fear and half of…something she refused to identify.

"You know I swore I'd never go back there," she managed, trying to sound defiant and barely managing frightened.

Jareth laughed and grazed her shoulder with the backs of his fingers. Sarah jerked away, but her eyes were uncertain. "Not even to save your friends?" Suddenly he reached up and grasped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him, while at the same time leaning forward even more until his lips were barely a breath away from hers. At the last second, just when she was convinced he was going to kiss her, he turned his head aside and spoke in her ear, so softly and yet so clearly: "It may very well come to that, Sarah."

Then he did kiss her, crushing her to him, forcing her mouth open and delving into it with his tongue, holding her immobile as she squirmed and fought and never quite managed to do more than make herself fully aware of exactly how aroused he was.

The kiss ended when he decided to end it, when he thrust her away from him almost contemptuously, took two steps backward and disappeared in a shower of sparks that sizzled and vanished as they hit the floor.

Sarah stood in a daze for who knew how many minutes, her lips still burning from that violent, passionate kiss. Then she remembered his last question, and the fog cleared as an icy shiver of fear—and fear alone—made its way down her spine. _Not even to save your friends?...It may very well come to that, Sarah._ What had he meant?

She was too cowed to even try to get him to come back and explain himself, not that night. And not for many nights afterward.

She wasn't just afraid of him, she was afraid of her own reactions as well.

Because as surely as she could feel his arousal, she felt her own as well, even with the taunts and threats. He was just too goddamned sexy, not human and yet human enough. She'd read enough fairy tales and folk stories and legends of the Fae in her life, especially during her college years, to understand the inherent attraction the fairy-folk had both towards and over humans.

She'd never expected to feel its force for herself, and even worry for her friends couldn't override the primal emotions Jareth had aroused in her: terror and longing, desire and hatred, lust and anger, all tangled together in a way she'd never even come close to experiencing before.

She sank to the floor in a huddle of misery, not moving until Ambrosias slunk out from under the bed, whining as he placed his head on her lap. Her fingers moved of their own accord to pet him, a small comfort in a world turned upside down.


	3. Eve of Departure

**Four Nights Later**

"Jareth? Can you hear me?"

Sarah stood in front of the mirror again, having finally gotten up the nerve to do what she knew had to be done. Ambrosias had vanished during that first night, presumably back to the Underground, and Sarah had spent the intervening time in a daze, not sleeping well, convincing her family it was just nerves at the upcoming trip, barely eating, tormented by worries about what her friends might be suffering while she dithered.

A particularly horrific nightmare, in which everyone died just before she got to them, had been the catalyst, waking her up and sending her scurrying to the mirror in the wee hours of the morning. She'd managed to retain enough self-control to throw on some clothes first; there was no point in putting herself at more of a disadvantage than she already was, and facing the Goblin King in her nightgown was definitely a disadvantage.

She had to know, had to find out what he'd meant, and it was now or never. Dad and Karen would be driving her to the airport right after breakfast, and she couldn't leave without knowing what Jareth's taunting question meant.

She waited impatiently for him to appear, but nothing happened for a long time. Just as she'd given up in despair she heard the flapping of wings against her window; rushing over she threw it open, then stepped back as a great white owl flew into her room.

When the owl transformed itself into the Goblin King, she wasn't surprised. "What did you mean?" she demanded, her words coming in a rush. "What did you do to them?"

"Do? To whom?" he asked, sounding as innocent as a Fae with his title could manage. "Oh, you mean your little friends from Underground."

"You know that's who I meant," Sarah said through clenched teeth. "You said it might come to that, that they might need saving. Are they in trouble?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. There's really only one way to find out, isn't there."

"No! I swore, I _swore_ I'd never go back," Sarah said in a panicked whisper, her heart stuttering in her chest as fear threatened to overwhelm her. "Please, just tell me."

"They are in trouble, Sarah, terrible trouble. And the only way to save them is to come back with me to the Underground," Jareth replied obligingly. "But answer me now, or I'll leave and never return, and you'll spend the rest of your days wondering what happened to them." He held out his hand as if asking her to dance, ungloved for once, fingers long and tapering and gleaming in the moonlight.

Moving forward as if in a trance, she watched as her own hand reached out and allowed itself to be clasped in his. "Say the words," he murmured as she stopped in front of him.

She closed her eyes and shook her head quickly, as if not believing she was doing this, then opened them and looked up at him. "I wish the Goblin King would take me away."

There was a flash of light, a sound like thunder, and Sarah's room was empty.

**The Underground**

They reappeared in Jareth's throne room, empty of anyone but the two of them. Sarah pulled her hand free and glared up at the Goblin King.

"All right, I'm here," Sarah snapped. She stood, back straight and chin up, but knew she wasn't fooling anyone, least of all herself. She was terrified. "Tell me what I have to do. Run the Labyrinth again?"

Jareth waved a dismissive hand. "Child's play, Sarah; you're too old for such games now." He stood up and moved closer to her. She had that sense of predator and prey that she had when he'd come to her room Aboveground, and once again tried not to flinch, to show the fear that set her heart pounding in her chest. At least, she told herself it was only fear, tamped down on any other aspect of it and never let her eyes leave his.

"Shall I take you to your friends now? Shall I show you exactly what's at stake here?" Without waiting for an answer, he grasped her by the wrists, hauling her close and bringing his face down to hers. As his lips crushed hers, before Sarah could even try to pull away, they vanished in a shower of sparkles.

**oOo**

Jareth released her as they reappeared, breaking off the kiss just as she started to wrench herself out of his hold. She stepped back, breathing heavily, forcing herself to focus on her surroundings instead of on what had just happened. She wrinkled her nose. They'd appeared in the darkest, smelliest place she'd ever been. Judging by the damp stone walls, the cramped corridor ill-lit by a pair of fitful, smoky torches, and the barred metal doors on either side of that corridor, it was a dungeon.

Jareth confirmed that guess as he dragged her to the end of the hall. "This is my dungeon, home to only the most special of guests. Who do you think we'll find here, hmm? Are we likely to see anyone you know?"

With that he threw open the wooden door facing them. It led to a series of cells that were even dingier than the others Sarah had glimpsed. She gasped as she recognized the three figures huddled together in one of those cells. "Ludo! Hoggle! Sir Didymus!" She rushed over to the bars, thrusting her hands through and reaching for her friends. Glaring over her shoulder at Jareth, she hissed: "How _could_ you? What did they ever do to you?"

The Goblin King shrugged one shoulder dismissively. "To me? Nothing. Against me? Ahh, that's a different story all together. Isn't it, gentlemen."

Ludo was clumsily hugging Sarah through the bars while Didymus danced wildly about, yapping and calling for Jareth to meet him in honorable combat. Hoggle, however, remained seated in one corner, looking dully up at Sarah. "We're bein' punished fer goin' against the Goblin King's express command," he said, his voice as dull as his expression. He dropped his chin onto one hand and looked away. "He tole us not to see yer no more, Sarah, an' we done it anyway."

Ludo nodded sad agreement. "Miss you Sa-wah," he groaned. "Miss you."

"I've missed you, too" she whispered, choking back tears. One sign of weakness and Jareth would find a way to exploit it.

"Have you seen enough?" Jareth had the nerve to sound bored. Sarah surreptitiously wiped her face in case any tears had made it past her defenses, then smiled as bravely as she could to her three friends. "I'm going to get you out of here," she promised.

"Of course you are, my lady!" Didymus shouted. "We are in durance vile, but bravely shall we face our incarceration till the day you are given leave to free us!"

Hoggle merely grunted. "We ain't worth whatever price he sets on you fer lettin' us go," he said at the last minute, as Sarah stood up and prepared to leave. He caught her eye. "Remember that. We ain't worth it."

She returned his gaze, hoping he could see how determined she was to see this through. "Yes you are," was all she said, then turned at Jareth tapped an impatient foot against the stone floor. "They're all worth it."

He smiled, a slow, cruel smile that almost destroyed her resolve then and there. "Are they? Time will tell, Sarah, time will tell." He beckoned her closer. "Say good-bye to your pathetic friends." He glanced at them indifferently. "Whether you ever see them again or not depends entirely on you."

She moved reluctantly to stand next to him, promising her friends with her eyes to return. Ludo and Didymus smiled at her, but Hoggle merely shook his head and turned away. Jareth took her hand, and once again they vanished from sight.


	4. Coming to Terms

"You said I wouldn't have to run the Labyrinth again," Sarah said, distancing herself from Jareth as soon as they materialized. "So what _do_ I have to do?"

Only then did she realize they weren't in his throne room, that the stone walls surrounding them were softened by a series of beautifully woven tapestries; that there was a cheerful blaze going in the massive fireplace across the room from them; that the furnishings looked both expensive and comfortable at the same time.

She did a half-turn, gazing in startled delight at the beautiful room, but her smile faded as she saw the bed behind her. It, too, was beautiful, with fanciful carvings decorating the foot- and head-boards, lovely crimson draperies hanging from each corner of the massive four-poster, a matching crimson-and-gold coverlet with gold tassels hanging along the edges, a series of soft pillows piled at the head with an eye to beauty as well as function any interior decorator Aboveground would have died to manage for their clients.

It was a bed, in short, fit for a king. They were not only in a bedroom, they were in Jareth's bedroom. She turned back to face him, moving slowly, and his smile told her everything. "No," she managed to gasp out.

"Yes," he corrected her, taking a seat on the backless, tufted bench that sat directly in front of the fire. With a leisurely motion he began to remove his gloves, one finger at a time, his eyes never leaving hers. "Yes, Sarah. Payment. Challenge offered. Stay with me for the obligatory year and a day, as my…consort. If you agree to do so, your friends will be set free, never to be punished for associating with you ever again."

"That's blackmail," she said tightly, but he only shrugged and started tugging the other glove off.

"Of course it is. The only wonder is that it took me this long to figure out why I wanted you back here so badly, and even longer to act on that knowledge." He lay both gloves on the crimson fabric of the bench. "Payback, as a human might say, is a bitch. And desire? We all dance to her tune sooner or later. You were a pretty thing as a young girl, and you've turned into a true beauty as a woman." His voice became low, seductive. "We shared a dance once, when you were barely able to comprehend how dancing is merely another form of love making, a safe form for a fifteen-year-old girl to indulge in."

Sarah took a step back, shaking her head. "You can't be serious!"

But he was; there was nothing of laughter about him, cruel or otherwise. He meant it, every word. "How can you ask something like that of me?" she demanded, hearing an echo of her younger self crying: _"It's not fair!"_ As if fairness were ever a factor, here or Aboveground.

"It's your decision, Sarah, your choice," Jareth said with another small shrug. He laid the gloves on the bench next to him and began an equally leisurely attack on the buttons of his black jacket, revealing more and more of the white shirt he was wearing under it. "Make it. Now."

"You need to give me more time!" she cried, once again recognizing the futility of her words as soon as they were spoken.

"No, I don't," he said, his words a flat denial. Now he _was_ smiling, watching as she paced back and forth in agitation. "I need only make my offer and wait for your response. Yes or no, it's a simple question. Will you stay as my consort for a year and a day in exchange for the release of your friends, or will you say no, at which point I will return you Aboveground, to remain there for the rest of your natural life. As your friends will continue to rot for the rest of theirs," he added pointedly.

Sarah stopped with her back toward him, fingers flexing as she crazily contemplated just throttling him. That would solve all her problems, right? Of course he was probably reading her intentions as clearly as if he were reading her mind, and she'd never get close enough to get her fingers around his neck…

"Tick, tock," he said from behind her. From very close behind her…she hunched her shoulders as she felt his hands on them, holding back a shiver as the tips of his fingers traced their way down her arms and back up again. So much for him staying out of reach. "The longer you take, the more likely I'll be to assume your answer is no," he breathed into her ear.

"You know I can't just leave them there," she muttered, not bothering to hide her hatred. And right now, no matter how muddled her emotions might have been about the Goblin King in the past, right now she hated him with every fiber of her being.

"Of course you can." He was taunting her, sensing that he'd won. One hand moved to graze her hip as the other toyed with a lock of her hair. "The question is, will you?"

Sarah's shoulders slumped in defeat. "No, damn you," she whispered. "You know I won't." She whipped her head around to look at him. "But you have to let them out first. I won't agree to stay unless you set them free now. Tonight."

"If you agree to the rest of my offer, I'll free them in the morning," he countered. "And that is the last bargaining I'll allow you; say yes or say no, but be done with it."

She was staring into his mismatched eyes, looking for pity and finding none. "Fine," she whispered. "I agree."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Say the words, Sarah. Say the words."

Damn him and his obsession with formula. Sarah wet her lips and spoke: "If you set my friends free in the morning and promise never to punish them for visiting me again, I promise to stay here in the Underground with you for a year and a day," she swallowed, forcing the rest of the words out: "as your consort."

He smiled triumphantly, then seized her in his arms, turning her to face him, forcing her head back as he kissed her. Once again she was stunned by the intensity of her own reactions, the heat that coursed through her even as she instinctively fought to free herself. _Too late for that,_ her mind whispered as Jareth forced her mouth open, as his tongue darted in to joust with her own, as his hands busied themselves with keeping her body tight against his rock-hard form.

He maneuvered her closer to the bed, until suddenly her knees hit the edge and buckled, collapsing her backward, his weight upon her, hands tugging impatiently at her clothing, lips trailing their way from neck to collar bone.

With a cry she tried to push him off, but he shoved her back down, leaning over her. "You gave your word, Sarah. There's no going back on it now."

"Wait, it's not that, it's just that…I've never done this before." She hated the whimper in her voice, but she had to let him know just how inexperienced she actually was. Whether it would matter to him or not, well, she'd know soon enough.

Apparently it did. "What, never have you allowed some pimply-faced mortal to fumble his way past your garments?" he asked mockingly, but he looked…intrigued.

She shook her head, ignoring his tone, miserably aware of how terrified she was. Terrified and something else; the hatred had once again turned into a morass of emotions she couldn't fully comprehend. "I guess I never met the right guy," she admitted, while a tiny voice inside her head whispered: _And what if it's because you were too busy comparing them to the one you never thought you could have?_

"Good." With that single word, Jareth renewed his attack on her lips, his hands sliding up beneath her t-shirt, fingering her bra and what the bra covered while Sarah did her best not to flinch at the roughness of his grasp. So much for obliquely asking him to take it easy on her.

_When in danger of rape, lie back and enjoy it._ She'd read that ancient saying somewhere; Chinese, wasn't it? But was it rape if she'd consented, even under duress? Confused thoughts wandered through her mind until she realized with a gasp that Jareth had released her, but only long enough to tug her t-shirt off over her head. His lips moved from her mouth to her ear, the side of her neck, her shoulder, and she shuddered as he reached her breasts, tasting her through the lace of her bra, then releasing her just long enough to undo the clasp.

"Human clothing can be quite inconvenient," he murmured, smiling down at her. He watched her face narrowly as he grazed the nipple of one breast with his fingers. "But the reward waiting beneath is well worth the effort." Tongue joined fingers, and Sarah felt a flush spread itself from somewhere in her mid-section, expanding rapidly until it felt as if every part of her from hair to toenails was on fire.

She was just wondering how he was going to manage her jeans when they vanished as if made of smoke rather than denim. The feel of skin on skin followed; his own clothing had vanished the same way, and now they were naked together, and the heat intensified even as her mind was screaming at her to stop this RIGHT NOW before it went too far.

_Too late,_ she reminded herself as Jareth nudged her legs apart with one knee, his fingers delving between her legs, no doubt meeting up with proof positive that this wasn't rape, not when she was responding so obviously to his touch, biting down on her lips to keep the moans she felt building in her throat from escaping. Stubbornly, she held onto the fact that he'd forced her into this, that she was allowing it only against her will. A year and a day, then it would all be over…

She gasped as tongue followed fingers once again, exploring, tasting, bringing her to the edge of something that was rapidly stealing thought and rationality from her mind, leaving only primal urges. Without consciously willing it her eyes closed, her fingers clawed at the bedclothes, the moans finally made their way up her throat and past her lips, and then…he stopped.

Sarah's eyes flew open as she realized Jareth was no longer touching her at all. Before she could gasp out a question he was on her, making his unhindered way between her legs, then there was pain and she cried out in shock; the sensations he'd elicited from her had driven the facts right out of her head, but she was reminded now exactly how inexperienced she was. She was a virgin, and no one escaped that state without pain and blood.

When it was over he rolled off her and stood looking down at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Sarah returned the stare, feeling bruised and battered and wondering miserably how she could have let this happen. "I think we ruined your comforter," she blurted out, desperate to say something, anything, and his unreadable face became even blanker, were such a thing possible.

Without a word he reached down and hauled her to her feet. She flinched at his touch but allowed him to drag her, unresisting, to one of the many tapestries lining the chamber walls. This one, apparently, hid the opening to another room. When they stepped through she realized it was a bathing chamber like nothing she'd ever seen before. If she'd been in the right mood to appreciate it, she'd even call it beautiful.

The room had white marble floors and mirrored walls on three sides, the same white marble tiled against the wall the opening was in. She stared numbly at their reflected selves, then looked away, not wanting to be reminded of that had just happened between them, the human girl and the Goblin King.

Turning her gaze to the floor she finally noticed the room's only other feature, a wading pool-sized sunken bath steaming in the middle of the floor. There were three steps leading down into it, and a shallow silver container holding the usual bathing accoutrements; sponges and scrub-brushes and some glass phials whose colorful contents she could only guess at.

"Clean yourself," Jareth said curtly, then turned and stalked out of the room, leaving her alone for the first time since returning to the Underground.

She stood there for a long moment, blankly regarding her myriad of reflections, then knelt down and stirred the fragrant water with the fingers of one hand. It was hot, but not too hot; she stepped gratefully in, sitting down and finding the water came to just below her shoulders. Holding her breath, she allowed herself to slide completely under the surface, then came back up gasping for air as the numbness finally started to wear off.

Splashing to the edge of the tub in a panic, she dumped out the contents of the shallow silver container and promptly threw up into it. When her stomach had heaved its last she allowed herself to once more sink below the surface of the water, wishing she could just stay there until this nightmare was over.

A year and a day. It had seemed a manageable amount of time, finite, an ending already in sight when she'd made the agreement. But now, a year and a day was an interminable amount of time, terrifying, and she panicked even more trying to figure out how she was going to get through just tonight, let alone the 365 nights to follow. And what about home, would they miss her? Time passed differently here, true, but she suspected a year and a day would be long enough for Karen and Dad and Toby to wonder where she'd vanished to.

"They're supposed to drive me to the airport in the morning." She didn't realize she'd spoken the words aloud until they were answered.

"Were they?" It was Jareth, of course; for all she'd seen of anybody else this visit to the Underground held only him, her imprisoned friends, and herself.

"They'll worry, they'll think something happened to me," she continued, staring up at him. He'd donned a deep green robe that covered him from neck to toes, yet there was still something so seductive about him that the female parts of her responded even against her mind's better judgment.

He shrugged. "So they will. And so it did," he pointed out, reasonably enough, but the cruel smile had made a return and she shrank back from him unconsciously. "Time passes differently here, you already know that, but enough will pass for you to have to find some explanation for your disappearance and reappearance when your time of service is up."

Time of service. What a way to refer to their…arrangement. Hatred flared yet again; the least he could have done was made it so they didn't miss her. She told him so, and he raised an eyebrow before retorting: "Why should I? I've done none of this for your convenience, Sarah, surely you've realized that by now."

And so she had. "Can't you just go away and leave me in peace?" she asked dully. "You've got what you wanted."

"Far from it," he said flatly, drifting closer to the edge of the sunken tub and holding out his hand. "You've lingered long enough, Sarah. It is time to come back to bed." He didn't even glance at the mess she'd made, either inside the container or scattered next to it, just stood there, waiting.

"I haven't even washed yet," she tried, but he shook his head.

"You don't need to. The water is enchanted; when you emerge, you'll find yourself cleaner than any human bath could make you, your hair clean and free of tangles, and any pains you might have experienced before will have vanished as well."

Any pains. How kind of him to notice that she'd suffered _any pains_. Tossing her head disdainfully, she stood up, wading over to the steps and walking out of the water without another word. Two could play the imperial jerk card.

As her feet landed on the marble floor, she gasped as she realized she was completely dry, even her hair. She ran her fingers through the long tresses disbelievingly, but as Jareth had promised, not a single tangle impeded her from scalp to tip. Even her teeth felt squeaky clean. She looked around in vain for a robe to put on, then resigned herself to walking back into the bedroom as naked as she'd left it. At least the floor wasn't cold, surprisingly enough; the marble was warm, presumably by magic, and Jareth had several rugs in his bedroom so she wouldn't be walking on bare stone.

His bedroom. It took a real effort for her to walk back in there, even with Jareth's hand on her elbow, his robe whispering around his feet as he escorted her back to the bed.

Her clothes were gone, no surprise there, but there didn't appear to be anything new for her to wear, either, and she wasted no time in pointing that out.

"There will be garments for you, never fear," he said as he stopped next to the bed. The coverlet, when Sarah surreptitiously examined it, didn't appear to have any stains, just as her own body no longer bore the physical signs that proved that yes, she'd given up her virginity to the Goblin King. The comforter was turned down, the pillows reduced in number to a manageable two each, and the fire banked. She shivered a little in the cool air. "Come, Sarah, even the Goblin King sleeps. And his consort sleeps by his side."

Slowly, reluctantly, she made her way closer to the bed. Jareth waited until she'd climbed in and scooted over, then joined her. Whatever light source the room had abruptly extinguished itself, leaving only the glow of the fire and the moon shining through the window to illuminate the darkness.


	5. Morning After Regrets

**Warning. Sexual Violence. Yes, again. Jareth really isn't very nice at this point in time.**

* * *

After many tense hours during which she kept jerking awake, expecting Jareth to pounce on her, exhaustion finally overcame fear, and Sarah slept.

She awoke in the morning to the feeling of velvety lips nuzzling her neck, a hand light as gossamer on her breast, teasing the nipple to erectness, a leg warm against her own, and jumped up and away from the invading presence as much as the bed clothes would allow, shouting indignantly before memory returned and gave her pause mid-shout.

Jareth leaned on his elbow and regarded her steadily. "Not the response one would hope for, but understandable under the circumstances." His face darkened. "Now come back here."

She stayed where she was. "I never said I'd let you do whatever you wanted to me," she snapped, clutching the comforter up near her shoulders. She glanced at the daylight showing through the room's one over-sized window. "Did you set them free yet? It's morning."

"They've been freed, yes, and you'll be allowed to see them later." Sarah felt as if a weight had been lifted from her abdomen. "_If_," he held up one finger in a warning motion, "you give me no reason to forbid such a visit, of course." Sarah's heart plummeted. "As for letting me do whatever I wanted to you, that is _exactly_ what you agreed to."

Before she could respond to that, he turned away from her, snapping his fingers. A covered tray shimmered into existence near the foot of the bed. "Are you hungry?" He sat up and pulled the tray onto his lap, removing the cover to reveal a mouth-watering display of pancakes and bacon, tiny bowls of fruit and jellies, thick slabs of toast, even a pair of coffee cups, a sugar bowl and creamer, everything to make a perfect breakfast.

She was starving, he'd been right about that, but the sight of his unclothed torso, sheet and coverlet draped low over narrow hips, dried up her appetite. Eating breakfast in bed with a naked man seemed too romantic for what had passed between them the night before, and she couldn't forget his words: "term of service." As if he'd hired her to clean windows and scrub toilets.

So she could only pick at the food, watching out of the corner of her eye as he dug in with gusto. That answered one of the many questions she had about life as a Fae; they did eat, that was comforting. They ate, they slept, they bathed, unless the bath was just for her, which she doubted. Her comfort, as he'd reminded her last night, wasn't paramount in his mind right at the moment.

After she'd managed to choke down a few bites she put her fork down and picked up one of the coffee cups, liberally dosing the dark brew with sugar and cream. It was delicious, but once again she could only manage a few sips before she placed it back on the tray. It clattered a bit when Jareth shifted against her, hip to hip, and she shied away from what appeared to be accidental contact.

Jareth continued to eat, ignoring her own lack of appetite, but the gleam in his eyes told her the contact wasn't as accidental as it seemed. She felt the heat rising again, helpless to stop her traitorous body's continued willingness to respond to his every touch, no matter how casual, and deliberately inched away from him, removing the contact but doing nothing to relieve the flush of warmth infusing her.

He ignored her movement until he finished eating, and then his only action was to drop his napkin on the tray and look at her inquiringly. "Finished?" She nodded, and he snapped his fingers. The tray and cover vanished, along with any sign that there had been food in the first place, down to the last crumb on the coverlet.

Sarah's discomfort grew as Jareth turned his attention back to her. The gleam in his eye was still there, along with a satisfied smile that did not bode well. "You mentioned clothes," she started, trying to distract him from his obvious intent, but Jareth shook his head.

"Later," he replied dismissively. When she started to ask "later when?" he sealed her lips with his own, confirming exactly what he had in mind for dessert.

She turned her head away sharply; just as sharply, he yanked it back, eliciting a cry of pain as he tangled his fingers in her hair to do so. "You have no right to say no to me, not for a year and a day," he reminded her coldly.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I have to cooperate, either," she shot back, shoving her hands against his chest. It was like pushing against a brick wall, and had about as much effect. "You forced me into this, Jareth. And I'll never let either one of us forget that."

"Ah, the way you did last night?" he taunted, and she flushed at the memory of how she'd responded to him. As if reading her mind he ran a finger down her torso, ending just above the triangle of dark hair between her legs, leaving a trail of heat that rapidly spread in every direction. She jerked away, but he had her now, his body covering hers, forcing her back against the pillows. This time the knee between her legs was brutal, separating them no matter how she strained to keep them together, fighting with a sudden, unthinking fury against the inevitable.

"If you're going to rape me, Jareth, you're going to realize that's exactly what you're doing," she snarled, pulling her hand back to slap him. She was more than just animal instincts and she wasn't about to let anyone forget that, herself included.

The slap never connected; instead, she found herself fully covered by an enraged Goblin King, his hands on her wrists forcing her arms back against the pillows, both knees between her legs now. Tugging her wrists higher until they met over her head, he grasped them both in one hand, reaching down to position himself and thrusting into her without further warning. She cried out at the sudden pain, even if it did die almost immediately, but she wanted him to remember how unwillingly she'd entered into this demon's bargain, and stubbornly refused to give in to the growing urge to meet his rhythm with one of her own.

She'd made up her mind, somewhere between her fitful night's sleep and that travesty of a breakfast: Blackmailed sex was rape, no two ways about it, and now that her friends were free, she'd honor the letter of her promise but that was all. She would remain Underground for a year and a day as Jareth's consort, but she would make him fight her for the use of her body.

When he reached his climax, body shuddering against hers, he lay there for a moment, studying her. She turned her head, once again refusing to look at him, and eventually he removed himself from her, then from the bed, stalking across the room to the fire. With a word and a gesture, the flames roared back to life; another gesture and he was fully clothed. Sarah yanked the covers up to her chin and turned toward the opposite wall.

With a snarled oath Jareth vanished from the room, and Sarah finally allowed the tears to fall.


	6. Time Apart

**oOo**

She was being impossible. In spite of the justifiable ill-will he bore her, he'd gone out of his way to make her time here as pleasant as possible. It was her own damn fault he'd lost control this morning and taken her as if he were some vulgar human rapist. Hadn't he shown her last night how it could be, were she willing to cooperate?

The goblins in the throne room didn't need anything to sense his mood but their own eyes, and kept warily away from his feet as he paced, back and forth, in front of his throne. When one dared approach to see if some service might be rendered to ease his mood, he snarled and lashed out with one booted foot, not quite connecting as the goblin nimbly darted out of his way at the last second.

"Woman trouble," the gnarled, long-nosed imp whispered to his nearest companions once he'd safely scuttled back into the crowd. They nodded sagely; everyone knew the Goblin King had brought that mortal girl back to his bed chamber, the one who'd bested him at the Labyrinth, and judging by his foul mood this morning things hadn't exactly gone as planned.

"She agreed," Jareth was muttering as he continued pacing. "Blast her, she gave her word!"

The goblins continued to watch from a safe distance, bright eyed, curious, but holding their tongues, not from wisdom but painful experience. After several minutes passed in such a manner Jareth suddenly glared out at them. "Be gone!" he shouted, and the entire group of them vanished in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke.

Jareth stalked over to the nearest window, throwing it open to clear the air, leaning against the wide stone sill and staring unseeingly at the view of the Labyrinth spread beneath him. His realm, or at least a large part of it. Right now he'd trade it all for insight into how women's minds worked. Last night she'd allowed herself to want him, to respond to his touch; this morning, contrarily, she'd tried to refuse him even when he sensed her own desire rising to meet his own, infuriating him past discretion and good sense into actions he'd never have taken otherwise.

The sound of a door creaking open caught his attention; with a thundercloud of a frown he turned to see who dared disturb his reverie. It was a goblin, of course, a female dwarf who bobbled an uncertain curtsey as she saw she'd gotten his attention. "Beggin' Your Majesty's pardon, but them clothes is ready now." She gestured behind her, and he saw a staggering pile of trunks cluttering the hall behind her. "Which room does yer want them in, please sir?"

"I'll take care of it," he snapped, sending her into another wobbly curtsey before she turned and fled the room. Sarah's clothes; he'd forgotten about them in the emotional turmoil of the morning. Hardly a fitting apology for his behavior, but still, he couldn't just leave her in his bedroom, naked, although he was sorely tempted to do exactly that; the visual was quite appealing, but driving her insane with boredom wasn't part of the plan. Making her want him as much as he wanted her was. But only part; the rest had to do with her begging him to let her stay at the end of her year and a day and him coldly rejecting her, as she'd rejected him during her first visit to his realm.

Getting her to that point was not going to happen if there was a repeat of this morning's events, of course.

He would leave her to spend the day in his rooms without a stitch of clothing, he decided. He had things to do, places to be, all of which had nothing to do with the woman his body was insisting he go back to. Part of mind joined in, whispering that he owed her an apology, but he cut _that_ line of thought off sharply.

He owed her nothing. She, on the other hand, owed him everything, and until she admitted it he refused to give in to any temporary internal weakness. After all, it wasn't as if he were in love with the infuriating chit; it was just lust, an emotion he intended to satisfy as often as inclination led him to, never mind her stubborn refusal to give in to it herself.

Lust, that was all it was. And vengeance. What in the Nine Immortal Realms had he been thinking, to even admit the word "love" into his thoughts? It never had before, not once. Never.

Or at least, so he kept telling himself.

**oOo**

Sarah sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest. Jareth had left her with a roaring fire that didn't seem to need more wood added to it, even after a couple of hours had passed. It kept the room nicely heated but she still shivered, on principle if nothing else. "He could have left the stupid robe," she muttered before yanking the top sheet off the bed defiantly and winding it around herself in a messy toga, draping the ends over one shoulder.

She'd cried for a long time, then fallen asleep with her cheeks still damp and her nose runny. Then she'd woken up, feeling much better, as if the tears had washed away the effects of too little sleep and too much stress.

She scanned the tapestries on the wall adjacent to the fireplace, looking for the one that marked the entrance to the bathing chamber. When she spotted the one she thought was right, she walked up to it, pulling the covering tapestry aside, then stopping to examine it closer. It depicted what looked like Greek sea nymphs, Nereids, frolicking with dolphins and a larger figure that must be Poseidon watching over them with an expression half benevolent and half lascivious, quite an impressive feat for whoever had done the weaving.

She hesitated a moment, then let it fall shut without passing through the opening, opting instead to examine the other ones, to see what other hidden entrances might be found. She made her methodical way around the room, even peering behind the tapestry that hung at the head of the bed, half hidden by the crimson draperies on the bedposts and canopy, blushing at the subject matter that showed. Nope, nothing. As she'd feared.

She ended up next to the window and took a moment to glance out of it. The room was so high up she could see almost the entirety of the Labyrinth stretching out below her. Way, way below her; feeling a little dizzy she backed away from the window and returned to her original destination, the tapestry with the Nereids.

She ducked through, letting it fall shut behind her as she hurried to the bathing pool, her only consolation in this madness she'd willingly turned her life into. The overturned bottles and brushes had been returned to their silver container, which in turn held no evidence that it had acted as her puke-bucket. Small favors, she supposed; at least she wouldn't have to clean up after herself. However, she did have need of something like a toilet for other, increasingly urgent reasons…she looked around and finally spied what looked like a catch on one of the mirrors surrounding the room. Ignoring the multiple views of herself wrapped in a creamy silk sheet she pressed and pulled until finally it opened and there, as hoped, were the facilities. Just for her, or another sign of how similar the Fae were to humans?

Either way it was nice to know it was there; a year and a day was a long time to hold it. "Just a year now," she told herself grimly. It was well into her first day, and her stomach was growling, reminding her that she'd eaten very little of the mouth-watering breakfast Jareth had magicked up earlier. "Well, he's not going to just let me starve," she grumbled to herself. "Do I have to wish for it or something?" She looked up at the ceiling. "I wish for some lunch," she called out, feeling foolish.

As expected, nothing happened, so she shrugged her shoulders and stepped into the steaming warmth of the bath instead. As before, her aches and pains were instantly soothed, but she didn't bother completely immersing herself, content to laze in the water and just _not think_ for a while.

When she finally decided to leave the comfort of the bath, she once again found herself completely dry the second both feet left the water. Wrapping herself in her improvised robe she headed back into the bed chamber.

As the tapestry fell back into place behind her, she turned to face the fireplace, a gasp of surprise escaping her lips. On the tufted bench sat a silver tray similar to the one Jareth had brought into existence earlier in the day. This one was smaller, but covered like the other, and she glanced around to see if there were any signs of how it had arrived. Nothing, of course.

Lunch looked and smelled just as mouth-watering as breakfast, and this time she was too ravenous to hold back. When there was nothing left but a few crumbs, she sat back with a contented sigh and placed the used utensils and napkins down on the tray, then set the cover back over the remains.

As if that had been some kind of signal, the tray and all its contents vanished. Sarah blinked, not really surprised, then sighed and looked around. "Well, that's lunch. Now what? Not even a book to read," she grumbled, recognizing her bravado for what it was: whistling in the dark, wasn't that the saying? Or was it whistling past a graveyard?

While she pondered which meaning made more sense, she walked around the room, once again peering behind the tapestries, hoping that something would appear. Anything; a hidden bookshelf would be almost as welcome by now as a closet full of clothes or an exit to the rest of the castle. They were all different, and she had enough of an artistic eye to guess they'd been woven by different hands and even in different eras, at least if they were human in origin. Something to ask Jareth about, when she decided she was speaking to him again.

She was eventually driven by boredom to straighten the bed, the only thing in the room not immaculate, then to try out each of the room's many chairs. Rearranging them seemed too strenuous an activity; the bath had left her with a pleasant languor that made her not want to exert herself too much, at least physically. "How about something to read?" she finally cried out in frustration.

Once again nothing happened, at least not right away. As she plopped herself wearily into the closest chair, she felt something lodge against her spine and yelped as she reached down to see what it was. A book, bound in red cloth, with elaborate gilt lettering on the cover: "_The Labyrinth_," she read aloud, then made a face. "Very funny," she muttered, but settled back into the chair and opened it to the first page.

**oOo**

The day gradually waned. Sarah had re-read _The Labyrinth_ about a dozen times, even driven at one point to reciting lines from memory to pass the monotonous hours, but now it was getting too dark to see unless she sat directly in front of the fire. There were torches, she remembered seeing them during her earlier explorations, but contrarily they refused to light for her. She stamped her foot in frustration, then flounced over and threw herself into the most comfortable chair. She'd had plenty of time to figure out which one that was and even roused herself enough to drag it closer to the fire, leaving the tiny side table it once accompanied to stand alone, abandoned in the middle of the room. Sarah knew how it felt, if a table could be said to feel; it looked so forlorn that she was driven to move it as well, cramming it between two other chairs.

She was just starting to fall into a doze when all the torches flared up at once and began to burn with a glow that was almost artificial, it was so steady. That could mean one of two things: either the lighting in this room was on some kind of magical timer, or Jareth was about to make his reappearance. Her heart hammering in her chest, she waited to see which one it would turn out to be.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry, no sex in this chapter. Lots of it in the next chapter, promise! (Can you tell this story is mostly an excuse to get Jareth & Sarah into bed together as often as possible within the context of one story?) G_


	7. New Clothes and Other Pleasures

As expected, Jareth flashed into existence; unexpectedly, he was less than two feet away from her, and accompanied by a pair of heavy wooden trunks.

Sarah stepped back nervously, then reminded herself that she was furious with him, that _he_ was the one who should be worried about _her_, and stood her ground.

He raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Enjoyed your day?"

When he stood there as if unable to move until she answered him, she shrugged. "It passed." She glanced at the trunks, trying not to show her eagerness. "Is that clothes for me?"

"It is," he replied curtly, matching icy tone for icy tone. "There are more when I decide to allow you the freedom to move about the castle environs." He gestured toward one of the tapestries, the one showing a series of cottages and walled gardens. Sarah glanced at it, then stepped closer to get a better look. Every door in it stood open, but she had studied it earlier and could have sworn every door and gate had been closed tight. Jareth pulled the tapestry aside and showed her the wooden door behind it, one that had most definitely _not_ been there earlier.

When he dropped the tapestry again, Sarah's eyes widened in surprise; now the gates and doors were firmly shut again. When she reached and looked behind it, there was nothing but a blank stone wall, same as before.

"So I don't get to leave until you decide to magic me out of here? Great," she muttered, moving around him, taking great care not to let so much as a single hair on her head touch him. He grinned at her, as if knowing exactly what she was doing, and worse; as if he knew exactly why she was doing it. Although she was hoping for an aura of regal disdain, she knew she was really projecting a frantic fear that touching him would once again awaken her senses and cause her to lose control like she had last night.

Last night, she reminded herself, firmly, but not this morning. She continued around Jareth until she reached the first trunk, her hand hovering over the elaborate brass key sticking out of the lock. "Do you have to magic these open for me as well?" she asked, making her voice as snide as she could.

Jareth shook his head. "No, they open in the usual manner. Sometimes things in the Goblin Realm are exactly what they seem to be."

Sarah responded with an indelicate snort. "Not very often." She dropped to her knees, careful to keep the sheet wrapped around her, and turned the key. The lid was heavy; when it was fully open it revealed, not a simple rectangle stuffed with clothes as Sarah had expected, but a series of drawers and shelves, some attached to the lid by chains, others resting on edges built into the trunk's body. She opened each one, examining the contents with a combination of excitement and dismay before turning to the second trunk.

Everything in them, down to the daintiest, laciest set of underclothes, was distinctly medieval in character; not a single modern item was to be had, from bra to shoes. There were four dresses carefully laid out in the bottom of the first trunk, with pieces of what looked and felt and even crackled like thick tissue paper laid between them; each one would require assistance in lacing up or buttoning, because each one fastened up the back. There were even petticoats, which she might consider wearing if she became desperately chilly…or even if she wasn't; she probably shouldn't make it any easier for Jareth to get into her pants, so to speak, than necessary.

The second trunk held assorted pairs of matching slippers and ankle-length boots, stockings and old-fashioned garters to hold them up, but nothing so modern as panty-hose, darn it all.

She stood up, taking the items she'd chosen in her arms. "Thank you," she said, forcing herself to say the words. After all, he could have simply left her naked; royal consort to the Goblin King didn't appear to be a title that had any duties attached to it other than the ones he'd already forced her into performing.

He spoke not a word, simply gave an ironic bow and watched as she marched off to the bathing chamber.

When she returned he was lounging on the armchair she'd pulled closer to the fire, an elegantly clad leg thrown over one arm, chin on fist, gazing into the flames. On the tufted bench next to him sat the ubiquitous silver tray, cover to one side and an elaborate meal in view: some kind of roast, gravy, potatoes and vegetables, and two glasses of what she assumed to be wine.

Sarah felt her mouth watering at the sight, but appetite was stifled under indignation as she decided it was just like him to appropriate the chair she'd selected as her own. A second chair had been set on the opposite side of the bench, balancing the arrangement out, and none of the chairs in this room were uncomfortable, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

Jareth looked up as she stopped in front of him, holding the dress together in the back with one hand. She'd buttoned the deep blue, low-necked gown it as far as she could, but that wasn't enough to keep it from sliding down her arms and revealing a lot more of herself than she wanted him to see, even with the delicate silk chemise beneath it. Steeling herself, she half-turned her back on him, burning at how submissive a gesture that seemed under the circumstances. "Would you mind?" she asked, keeping her voice as cold as she could.

He rose gracefully to his feet and was at her side in a second, nimble fingers working the buttons…in the wrong direction. In a flash he had undone everything she had just done, grasping the fabric firmly when she tried to move away, pulling her back against him.

Damn, did he always have a hard-on, or was it just when she was around? Sarah squirmed, determined to free herself, the stopped as she heard his appreciative "mmmmm". That was certainly _not_ the effect she'd been aiming for. He buried his face in the nape of her neck, planting hot kisses there that raised goose bumps on her flesh. His hands tugged at the dress; stubbornly, she held it in place, arms crossed over her chest. Surely he wouldn't want to ruin something he'd just given her…

Ah, well, another theory down the drain. She heard a tearing sound, and his hands dropped their hold on the newly-rent fabric of the chemise, only to move to encircle her waist beneath both layers of fabric.

Jareth's lips had trailed from her neck to between her shoulder blades in spite of her efforts to dislodge him, and his hands were moving as well, one up and one down against the flesh of her abdomen. She grabbed at his fingers, desperately trying to keep them from reaching their intended targets, but only marginally succeeded in slowing him down. The top of the gown sagged, her breasts barely covered by what remained of the chemise, and she squirmed once again, realizing two things: doing so only made him redouble his efforts, and long, flowing skirts must have been designed to keep a woman from kicking a man in his private parts. There was no other possible explanation; it certainly hampered her own efforts in that direction, never mind that she was facing the wrong way to do much in the way of damage even if her legs were free.

"Jareth," she said breathlessly, once again standing still in hopes of averting the obvious, "this isn't going to work."

"Isn't it?" he murmured, his lips once again against the nape of her neck, nibbling this time, delicate nips that raised more goose bumps as his fingers finally arrived at their various destinations. One flick against her nipple and it hardened obediently. "It seems to be working quite splendidly." The other hand delved beneath the waistband of her knee-length under drawers. There was nothing between his fingers and her most private parts, and she kept her legs tightly together in a desperate attempt to block further access.

The access he had, however, was proving quite distracting. "Jareth, please, don't do this," she groaned, using both hands to try and pry his fingers away, leaving his other hand free to wander about her breasts, first one and then the other, once again raising her personal temperature a notch or two above feverish. Why, why couldn't her body cooperate with her brain? She hated him, hated what he'd done to her, how he'd forced her into agreeing with his demands, just as she hated those demands…didn't she? It was increasingly hard to tell.

"Pheromones!" she managed to gasp out, craning her neck as best she could to glare into his eyes. "Or some kind of magic, is that it?"

He stopped kissing her neck long enough to regard her with an air of bemusement. When he finally realized what she was talking about, he laughed aloud, delighted. "Having an effect on you in spite of your protests to the contrary, am I? Well, I'm not sorry to say that no, it's nothing magical, no spells or enchantments, and as for pheromones, whatever those are, I can assure you I'm not using them on you." The hand probing beneath her under drawers moved in a slow, languorous pattern, not quite touching the spot she knew he was aiming for.

"You wouldn't necessarily know," Sarah rebutted breathlessly, trying not to squirm. Damn, he certainly knew what he was doing. "It's kind of a chemical reaction, you know, that attracts one person to another."

He met her eyes, still wearing a half-smile, fingers never stopping in their movement even as her hands never stopped trying to remove his arms from around her body. "Once again, my dear Sarah, I can assure you I am using no such thing. You can't blame your reaction to me on some invisible essence, although I am certainly intrigued by the thought."

"Well, it's still rape," she said stubbornly. "I'm still under duress, and after this morning, I don't intend to just give in and let you use me."

"Going to make me work for it, are you?" he asked, a teasing note creeping into his voice.

Sarah shivered at the feel of his breath so close to her ear, then chastised herself for reacting as much as she was. Why oh why couldn't she just hold on to the fact that he'd literally forced himself on her at the beginning of the day, and was perfectly willing to do so again now? "Damn right," she snapped.

She felt him laughing again, silently this time, his forehead resting against her shoulder, his fingers finally still. But it was at best a momentary delay, and her body remained quivering and alert. But not, as she wanted to tell herself, in anger; oh no, she'd begun to regard her physical self as so completely divorced from her mental self as to belong to another person entirely. A person who wanted this, who wanted his fingers to begin their wandering, who wanted him to continue rubbing up against her, who wanted the sensation of warmth that was igniting her every cell, every pore, head to toe and every square inch of her in between.

With an almighty effort she managed to wrench herself free of his grasp, but he merely used the opportunity to start removing his clothing; first the gloves, then the jacket and waistcoat, finally the boots, but stopping short at that point, retaking his seat and picking up a plate of food as if that had been his intent all along.

Sarah fumbled her dress back up, yanking the sleeves over her shoulders and fuming; how dare he get her so riled up and then just…_stop_?!

She felt her face flame as she realized what she'd been thinking. She wanted him to stop, to leave her be. Didn't she? Not sure what to think, she took the chair opposite his, unaware of what a vision she was, her lips kiss-swollen, hair flowing over her bare shoulders, skin almost glowing in the warm firelight…It took all his considerable strength of will for Jareth not to pull her into his lap and take her right then and there. But no, not yet. She'd been weakening and he probably shouldn't have given her the opportunity to regroup, but he liked keeping her off balance.

He watched through his eyelashes as she ate, enjoying the sight as she chewed and swallowed, even deigning to sip the wine he'd provided. It was roughly three times as strong as the human kind, but he wasn't about to warn her about it, not unless she asked. It was all part of the game; he wanted to see her at least mildly intoxicated, to observe how she acted when under alcohol's fickle influence.

Completely unaware of these facts, Sarah continued to eat and sip the wine, until suddenly her plate was empty and the glass as well. She set both down on the edge of the bench with a decided wobble to her movements, then sat back in her chair and glared at Jareth accusingly. "That wasn't just wine!"

"Of course it was," he replied, once again attempting an innocent expression that wouldn't have fooled a blind man. "Goblin wine. You seemed to enjoy it."

Sarah stood up, weaving unsteadily on her feet. "Izzat the plan, get me drunk enough to let you finish under-un_dress_ing me?" A discreet hiccup interrupted her words, and she clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide with dismay.

Jareth also rose to his feet. "Yes, actually, that was the plan exactly." She blinked and he was standing in front of her, so close that she could feel her eyes crossing as she tried to focus on his face. She'd never in her short drinking life had any liquor affect her this strongly or this rapidly, and she made a mental note never to try Goblin Wine again.

At least, she intended it to be mental; Jareth's grin told her she must have inadvertently said the words aloud. "Bastard," she mumbled as he stepped even closer and bent his head to hers to capture a kiss.

She shoved at him, but succeeded only in putting herself off-balance. Jareth was there to catch her, one arm encircling her waist, the other caressing her dress back off her shoulders. His lips descended to her throat, and a moan of desire escaped Sarah's lips before she could stop it.

That was all the encouragement Jareth needed. He swept her into his arms and carried her over to the bed. "Returning to the scene of the crime?" Sarah muttered, but weakly; Jareth's continued caresses were even more distracting now that the wine had apparently heightened every sense she had.

"Trying to replace a bad memory with one less painful," Jareth countered as he busied himself with removing her dress and the ruined chemise. Sarah tried to offer at least a token amount of resistance, but her body refused to cooperate; her fingers kept trying to pull him closer instead of push him away, and her legs were already half-spread in anticipation of his presence between them.

_Stop that,_ she ordered her body irritably, but it continued to do exactly as it pleased, which in this case was also exactly as Jareth pleased. Her hips willingly lifted as he slid the dress and chemise and under drawers off, and her mouth opened beneath his as he returned to claim another kiss. Her hands were on his shoulders as he embraced her, and they continued to act as if under his control rather than hers by caressing him, encouraging him to lower his lips once again to her throat and trail a series of moist kisses down to her breasts.

She sucked in her breath as he gave each breast equal attention, as his fingers returned to probing the moist area between her legs, which had very nearly gone into the splits in their mindless attempts to draw him closer. "Sarah, Goblin Wine agrees with you," he murmured against her stomach; he'd been slowly but steadily making his way down her body, encouraged by her hands as they now tangled in his hair, by the moans that continued to issue from her throat and the tangible proof of her willingness, nay, her eagerness to have him bed her.

"It's jus' like drugging me," she slurred; some part of her was still resisting, but it was a very minor part. "Y'know I wouldn't let you do this if you hadn't."

Jareth paused in his ministrations, giving her words some thought before dismissing them. "Goblin Wine, like human wine, only lowers inhibitions, my dear Sarah. Part of you may despise me, but a greater part of you wants me. I choose to respond to that part of you." With those words he reached the apex of her legs and began to use his tongue for a very different activity than speaking.

Sarah writhed beneath him as he found The Spot, the one she'd never been able to work on her own the few times she'd tried, laving it with his tongue, grazing it with his teeth while his fingers worked their way deeper and deeper inside her folds.

Nor was he met with resistance of any kind as Sarah's hips bucked beneath him, as she gasped and moaned and finally tangled her fingers in his unruly blonde locks, pressing him closer in spite of her stated desire to want nothing to do with him. There was no room for any thoughts at all as she lost herself in the sensation of his exquisite tongue between her legs, his fingers stroking her female center, the molten lava that was building and spreading until she screamed his name as she climaxed.

She felt him move away; before she could do more than gasp at the sudden distance between them he was upon her, the full length of him pressed against her. She felt something probing at the still-quivering flesh between her legs. Within seconds he plunged into her and she cried out again, fingers digging into his shoulders, her legs wrapping themselves around his waist and her body moving to the same urgent rhythm that had overcome him.

She came to a second climax, more intense than the one that preceded it, a series of choked cries issuing from her throat as she clutched Jareth even closer. She felt his own release follow not long after, and it set off yet another paroxysm of pleasure throughout her body.

He was right about the wine, damn him; she realized she was nowhere near drunk enough to be able to claim he'd taken advantage of her. Of course, that was if she believed him when he said it was just strong liquor and nothing else; suppose he'd been lying?

_But why should he?_ another part of her argued back. The sensible, logical part that could be such a pain at times like this, when all she wanted to do was wallow in self-pity. The truth was he had no need to drug her to make her do what he wanted, and no need to lie about if he did. No matter what, she'd given her word, and under the terms of their agreement, her body was basically his to do with as he pleased for another year.

Not that she'd give him the satisfaction of protesting, which was obviously what he expected her to do. No, she'd keep her thoughts to herself, deny him the pleasure of reminding her that she'd seemed to welcome his caresses even before the wine.

While she was busy within her own mind, Jareth had removed himself from the bed, returning after a few minutes with another goblet of wine. He sat on the edge of the bed to drink it, gazing down at her. After a minute Sarah could no longer stand it; she sat up and yanked the sheets up to her shoulders. "I have to go to the bathroom," she said with as much dignity as she could muster. "You could at least give me a robe or pass me my underwear or something."

He reached down by his feet and pulled up the green robe he'd been wearing earlier, or perhaps its twin since this seemed to fit her as perfectly as it had fit him, no extra material at wrists or ankles to pull out of the way as she walked. He remained silent as she headed for the appropriate tapestry, pushing it aside and disappearing from view.

* * *

_A/N: I just can't keep Jareth a complete bastard, no matter how hard I try...he's just too damn sexy! Sorry it took so long for this chapter but I wasn't sure how I wanted to end this scene. I'm working on the next few chapters, never fear!_


	8. I Hate You

**oOo**

Jareth lounged back against the satin-clad pillows, hands clasped behind his head, a smug smile plastered across his face. Now _that_ was more like it. Bringing her to the ultimate in physical pleasure not once, but twice and quite possibly a third time was quite an accomplishment with a partner who claimed he was taking her against her will. And while intoxicated, no less…the smile broadened. Things were certainly looking up.

He wondered how she would react when she returned from taking care of the necessities; would she coldly ignore him, give him a piece of her mind, or do something else entirely?

He enjoyed not knowing; she was predictable only to a certain extent, and it was much more fun letting things unfold as they would rather than trying to force the outcome. Except, of course, for the sex. She'd consented, she'd given her word, and it was obvious how much his caresses affected her even when she fought against him.

He'd decided to take it as a challenge rather than let it infuriate him past reason as it had earlier. A few more days trapped in this chamber with only the one book should be enough to drive her to demand release, beg for it if he forced her to, although that tactic would no doubt add additional time to her solitary captivity; unless forced by extreme measures, she wasn't the begging type. He appreciated that about her, reluctantly. It seemed there were many things about her he appreciated reluctantly these days, but he shut that thought off before it could fully form. Better to concentrate on less troublesome ideas, such as how well his plan was proceeding.

Her friends, as promised, had been released from the prison but not from the castle; at the moment he had them hard at work scrubbing floors that were normally kept clean by magic or left to gather dust at his personal whim. He would keep them at such menial tasks at least as long as Sarah remained Underground, longer if he felt like it. Of course it was just as likely that he would completely forget about them in time; they had only been a means to an end, after all. Not worth wasting any more time on than they'd already taken up.

Sarah emerged from the bathing chamber, still clad in the green robe he'd conjured up for her, and he admired the elegant sway of the fabric as she stalked back to the bed.

She waited until she had nearly reached it before she stopped and spoke. "I hate you. I just want to make that perfectly clear." Her voice was nearly as cold as one of the Fae could manage, which was cold indeed. He found himself admiring her for it and forced himself to stop, at least consciously. Even the Goblin King could do nothing about his subconscious, however.

"You have made your mixture of feelings toward me quite clear," he replied with a lazy smile designed to infuriate her; he loved making her lose her temper. "Hatred, however, is only one of those emotions, and we both know it. Now come back to bed."

She ignored him. "I'm not tired," she shot back, then walked deliberately toward the chairs in front of the fire. "I think I'll sit up for a while. You can sleep if you want," she added snidely.

He smothered a grin behind a false yawn. "Don't mind if I do," he replied, then turned on his side and deliberately ignored her. If the foolish child chose to sit up all night, that was her decision. Sooner or later she would come back to his bed. She had no choice in the matter.

**oOo**

Sarah sat tensely for a long time, not convinced that Jareth was actually going to let her defy him even this much, but apparently he was; she listened as his breathing evened out, and her hands clenched into fists. How could he sleep the sleep of the innocent when he was so far from that state? It wasn't fair, and she didn't even care if she sounded like a child by thinking so.

After a few more minutes passed she went back to the trunks, searching for something that could pass for a nightgown. Nothing; she hadn't missed anything, so it was sleep in the robe (way too hot), in the nude (no WAY) or in the underclothes he'd been so kind as to provide.

She hesitated even longer before ghosting back to the bed and reaching for the clothes he'd left carelessly tossed at the foot of the bed. She laid the dress across the bench at the foot of the bed and examined the chemise, expecting it to be ruined. The tear, however, had vanished; she frowned, wondering if it was something about the fabric or if Jareth had actually magically mended it. Then she shook her head; speculating on something that stupid would get her nowhere. She donned the under drawers without taking off the robe, then untied it enough to squirm back into the chemise.

Jareth watched this from beneath lowered eyelashes, careful to keep his breathing deep and even. It was amusing to see Sarah trying desperately to keep herself covered on the off chance that he might waken and see her; it was even more amusing when he thought about the fact that she could simply have taken the clothes into the bathing chamber and changed there. She would be chagrined when she realized it herself, and he once again had to keep the smile off his face lest she realize he was awake.

After she'd finally managed to wriggle back into the chemise and bring the robe back up over her shoulders, Sarah headed back to the fireplace. As she sank into the chair, all the torches went out as suddenly as they had the night before, and she realized she'd spent a full day in the Underground now. She officially had 365 left to go.

It was a depressing thought.

**oOo**

Sarah frowned and turned her head; there was a light shining in her eyes, or something, and she wasn't awake enough to want to do more than make it go away.

"Sarah," someone whispered in her ear, and she bolted upright, eyes flashing open.

She was still sitting in the chair, and of course it was Jareth who'd awakened her. The light came, not from the morning sun, but from a crystal he held in one hand, deliberately bouncing the reflected firelight into her eyes. She raised an irritable hand to block him, and he lowered the crystal, causing it to vanish before his hands settled on the arm of the chair.

He was crouched at her side, gazing intently at her. "This cannot be comfortable enough to sleep the night in," he said, patting the arm of the chair with one hand. "Come back to bed. I promise, 'tis only to sleep; even a Goblin King has limits."

He gave a self-deprecating smile, but it didn't fool Sarah. She shook her head. "I don't believe you."

"I give my word." That seemed to surprise Jareth as much as it did her; he frowned as soon as the words left his lips, but didn't take them back. "I have never gone back on my word."

Sarah met his gaze, uncertainty warring with a desire, however faint, to believe him. Finally she nodded and slipped from the chair. She shed the robe and laid it across the bench at the foot of the bed, then climbed under the blankets and slid to the far side, watching narrowly as he joined her.

He was still naked, but made no move to touch her beyond planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. As if she wanted his comfort; she turned her back on him sharply and moved as close to the edge of the bed as she could manage without falling off. Jareth didn't bother smothering his laugh; she hunched her shoulders against it and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.

It felt like hours before she finally dropped off, and this time the Goblin King wasn't feigning his own sleep.

When the morning came, Sarah opened her eyes, body automatically stiffening as memory flooded through her. But when she mustered up the courage to roll over, she was alone, in the bed and in the room.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry it's taking so long, just want to make sure the plot doesn't get away from me!_


	9. Anniversary Blues

**Warning: No Sex. Sorry.**

* * *

**One Month Later**

"Happy anniversary, darling!"

Sarah stared at the table that had magically appeared in the middle of the room. Jareth stood at the head, beaming delightedly as she slowly made her way from behind the tapestry to the bathing chamber. He wore the most elegant clothing she'd ever seen, in his usual 18th century style; ruffled shirt front and sleeves, delicately embroidered waistcoat, black jacket and trousers tucked into sleek black, piratical boots. "It's been one month exactly since our liaison began," he continued, pulling out one of the table's two chairs. "Can you believe it?"

His voice and gestures were as extravagant as his clothing, and Sarah tore her eyes away from him before he started getting any ideas; obviously he'd had far too many already. Instead, she examined the round table. It was covered in flawless white with a pair of gleaming silver candlesticks dominating the center piece, which consisted of some of the most exotic of the Underground flowers. There were two place settings at the head and foot of the table, each dish covered with the usual silver dome and bracketed by a bewildering array of silverware. Wine goblets and a silver bucket holding what looked like a champagne bottle and over all a mouthwatering aroma.

Sarah shrugged and turned toward the fireplace. "Meh. I'm not very hungry."

She could feel Jareth's amused grin even before he strode over and lifted her bodily from the seat she'd taken. She tolerated the gesture without a struggle, telling herself it wasn't worth the effort even though part of her mind was enjoying the hoops was making him jump through.

He deposited her in the chair he'd pulled out for her with another theatrical flourish. "Very well, then. Don't eat. Simply sit there and look…ravishing."

His pointed smile told her that word was deliberately chosen, and she bit back the automatic response that wanted out of her brain and into her mouth. They'd spent the past month sparring like this, and every time she felt that she came out slightly the loser. Not that she'd ever let him know that, so instead she closed her mouth and offered a demure smile.

That seemed to unsettle him; the smile faded just the tiniest bit and his eyes showed a hint of uncertainty that quickly vanished. He lifted the cover off his dish and inhaled deliberately. "Chef has outdone himself this time," he said in a conversational tone of voice. "A pity you won't be able to tell him so yourself."

Sarah flushed at that comment. Since she'd been given her freedom from Jareth's bed chamber three weeks ago, she'd made it a point to not only look in on her friends but to discover as much about the day-to-day working of the castle as well. She still hadn't been given the freedom to leave that forbidding edifice, but she was working on it.

The Goblin King's chef was one of her new friends, and Jareth knew it. The grumpy troll-like goblin was built along Ludo's lines, but far less hairier and with a nose that would do Hoggle proud. He labored long and hard to make her favorite dishes once he'd wheedled them out of her; even magic, however, seemed stumped by the concept of "pizza." But everything else she asked for, from steak to ice cream, made its way onto her dishes, not always in a recognizable form, but always delicious. "Well, if Chef went out of his way, then it wouldn't be very nice of me to just ignore all this," Sarah finally said, reaching to remove the cover to her own dish.

"I've decided to give you a present to celebrate this momentous occasion," Jareth said, half-way into the meal.

Sarah was startled; he hadn't said anything once she started eating and she wasn't expecting him to. Sometimes they got into petty little "I won't talk till you do" contests (which Jareth usually lost, score one for the mortal), and she'd assumed this was turning into one of those times. "It's not a momentous occasion," she contradicted, automatically going on the defensive. "It's been 30 days into a 366 day incarceration."

Jareth waved a dismissive hand. "Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," he said. Sarah's lips twitched into a faint smile at the unexpected choice of words. "I choose to have a, what's the saying, glass half full, outlook." He raised his own glass in a mocking toast. "Here's to our first thirty days together."

"Only 336 to go," Sarah finished, raising her own glass, then deliberately setting it back on the table. Chef wouldn't be disappointed if she didn't drink any more Goblin wine.

As if reading her mind, Jareth indicated her glass. "It's perfectly safe, Sarah. Human champagne from Aboveground." He gave her a smoldering look. "Although I must say I prefer your reaction to Goblin Wine."

Sarah flushed again, fumbling for her fork and ducking her head to hide her embarrassment. He _would_ bring that up; she was surprised he wasn't reminding her that she had responded to him _three times_ as well after that first—and last—glass.

She speared a piece of the unidentified meat masquerading as pot roast this time, chewed it deliberately, then looked back at Jareth as she swallowed. "Honestly, isn't this a bit over the top? Even for you?"

He leaned back in his chair and patted his lips with a snowy white napkin. "Not at all. I enjoy extravagant gestures."

"Does this gift involve me having to take my clothes off?" Sometimes deliberate vulgarity bothered him, but not tonight. All he did was shake his head and smile knowingly.

Sarah leaned back in her chair, surrendering her fork to the table as she realized she'd finished every bite. Jareth was right; Chef had outdone himself. He still refused to tell her what exact ingredients he used and how much magic was involved in the preparation, but he'd never failed to disappoint. "So. A present that doesn't involve me taking off my clothes," Sarah mused. "I wonder what it could be." Her eyes lit up; she really did enjoy these sparring matches, although she still hated to admit it. "A night off."

That took Jareth aback; she smiled inwardly at the frown that blackened his features for just a moment. "No nights off," he finally said, his voice gruff with suppressed irritation. "That isn't part of the deal we made and you know it."

"Well, you can't blame a girl for trying," Sarah murmured, this time allowing the smile to show.

He ignored her, snapping his fingers and watching her expression as the room filled with a silvery glitter. When the glow settled, they were surrounded by trunks, large and small. "The rest of your clothing," he announced.

The two trunks she'd originally been given had long since been moved into the bathing chamber, since she preferred to dress in there, whenever she could get away with dressing by herself. Usually on days when she'd finally gotten him mad enough to just blink himself out of the room rather than lingering after breakfast. They still shared every meal except lunch, which she now ate with her friends when they could make the time. When they couldn't she simply sat in the kitchen and ate whatever Chef decided she looked like she needed.

More clothes definitely fell into the "whatever she needed" category; although the dresses and everything else she'd been given magically appeared, cleaned and mended if needed, in the morning after she'd gone to sleep, it was getting kind of boring. Especially now that she was allowed the freedom of the castle. Not that goblins were really fussy about appearances, but still. A girl wanted to look good, even if it was only to please herself.

She rose from her chair and beelined for the largest of the trunks, turning the key and throwing the lid open with a grunt of effort. Jareth remained, lounging in his chair and sipping his champagne, watching her out of hooded eyes.

Sarah wouldn't have noticed if he'd sprouted wings and was hovering over her head; she was too busy gasping with delight and picking up item after item. "It's my clothes! My real clothes!"

Then it hit her; it was, indeed, her real clothes. All her clothes from home. "Wait, how did you get these?" She turned to stare at Jareth. "What will my dad and Karen think if all my clothes suddenly go missing after I've been gone for…however long I've been gone back home?"

"Half a day here is passing at roughly an hour at home," Jareth replied, ignoring her actual question in favor of the one he didn't mind answering. The one he could easily explain away.

"So to them I've only been gone…let's see, it's a 26 hour day here, so about 2 hours per day, it's been 30 days…" Her voice trailed off as she did the math. "I've only been gone 60 hours," she whispered. "That's not even three days back home." She sank down from her kneeling position until she was sitting firmly on the floor. "That's hardly enough time for the police to be looking for me." Unexpectedly her eyes filled with tears.

"The police aren't looking for you."

Jareth's voice, rough with some unidentified emotion, was close, very close; Sarah looked up to find that he'd settled gracefully on the floor next to her. He took her chin in his hand, wiping away a falling tear with his thumb. "Your family all believe you've gone exactly where you were supposed to go, off to Europe to study. And your university believes you changed your mind and dropped out."

"I d-don't believe you," Sarah stuttered in surprise. She stared at him out of confused, wary eyes. "Y-you said I'd have to find my own explanation when I went back."

Jareth looked away, releasing her chin and shrugging. "I changed my mind. I do that, you know. Quite frequently. Get used to it. And remember; I can change my mind about other things," he added, as if he felt it necessary to levy his unexpected compassion with a dose of cruelty. "Your friends can still be punished for other things, just not for disobeying my orders to stay away from you."

He rose to his feet and turned back to the table, but Sarah's next words stopped him in mid-step. "Why do you do that?" she asked quietly. "Why do you do something nice, then turn around and say something cruel? I won't start wondering if you're getting soft, if that's what it is. I just don't understand you sometimes!"

"Good," he growled over his shoulder, then vanished without another word.


	10. Turmoil

**oOo**

Sarah sat there, stunned. He'd changed his mind…when? Why? And how had he done it? Not changed his mind, of course; how had he done what he said he'd done? Magic obviously, but _how_?

"All you need is who and what and you've got all the basics covered," Sarah muttered to herself, trying to clear the confusion rioting through her mind. The only question that really mattered was "why" and she doubted very much that Jareth was going to answer it.

She opted to retreat to her favorite spot; the bathing chamber, not bothering to look into any of the other trunks that had appeared alongside the one that held her clothes from Aboveground. Along with her freedom she'd been given access to the castle's long-neglected library, and had accumulated several volumes to keep in the room for when she really needed to get out of her own head.

Like now. But she suspected it wouldn't be easy to dislodge her disturbed thoughts this time. Why, why, _why_ had he done it? And why tell her, if he really wanted to torment her?

"Because maybe he doesn't want to do that," she said aloud as she shed her gown and stepped into the soothing warmth. She held the first book she'd come across in her hand, finally looking down to see which one it was.

A book of fairy tales, as told from the Underground point of view. She grimaced; it was hard reading for a mortal, since every beautiful princess hid a treacherous heart and every so-called "evil queen" was the heroine of the story. "If they wrote a version of Rumplestiltskin, I bet he's the one treated sympathetically for being cheated out of the baby he was promised," she muttered to herself, then tossed the book back onto the low shelf Jareth had magicked into existence for her next to the sunken tub.

She submerged herself under the water, staying under as long as she could stand it, then lying back against the curved edge of the tub, staring up at the white marble ceiling.

Tonight had been a real puzzler, and she wasn't going to be able to stop thinking about it for a long, long time.

**oOo**

Jareth paced back and forth atop the highest parapet of the castle. Why oh why had he told her the truth? He hadn't intended to, but she'd started crying, and the words had forced themselves out of his mouth before his blasted brain could stop them. "Stupid girl, crying over clothes," he muttered as he paced. A trio of crystals whirled round and round in one gloved hand, although he had no idea what he planned to do with them.

Why in the name of the Unholy had she cried? It wasn't like her, not like her at all, and the tears had torn a hole in a heart he never thought he had. He was getting soft, that was the answer. Too soft, letting her get to him like he was some love-sick prince in a human fairy tale.

Love. There was that word again. Why was he even allowing such a word into his thoughts? "Love is a human emotion," he said aloud. "A foolish one at that."

"Nothin' wrong with love, yer Highness."

He whirled at the sound of that unexpected voice; who dared interrupt him—ah, of course. "Hogwart," he sneered, curling his lip expressively. "What do you want?"

"Jest followin' orders, Yer Majesty," the dwarf replied, holding up a bucket of water and pointing to the mop leaning against the low wall of the parapet. "Clean the castle top t'bottom, ye said. Well, this 'ere's the top and 'tis my night fer cleanin' it." He shrugged. "Didn't know you was gonna be up here."

"And yet once you saw me, once you heard me speak, you saw fit to reply as if I were speaking to _you_," Jareth said, the sneer deepening. "I ought to throw you into the Bog of Eternal Stench for that."

Hoggle shrugged again. "That's yer right. But I ain't never heard the word 'love' comin' from yer lips before, thought it worth commentin' on. Specially since yer was wrong, beggin' Yer Majesty's pardon."

Jareth stared down his nose at the dwarf. "And what would _you_ know about love?" he sneered.

Hoggle shrugged. "Nothin' much, I reckon. But enough to know about the sacrifice's yer willin' to make for it. Like what we done fer Sarah, disobeyin' you so's we could keep visitin' her. And what she done fer us, stayin' in the Underground with you an' all. Told 'er not to," he reminded Jareth, as if the Goblin King hadn't been there for that particular conversation. "But she done it anyway."

"So in your limited experience, love has caused you nothing but pain and anguish," Jareth pointed out, intrigued in spite of himself. "Yet you tell me I'm wrong about it."

"Cause you are," was Hoggle's response. "Plain an' simple." He looked up at the Goblin King, greatly daring, holding his liege lord's gaze for a long moment. "Love's worth all the pain. Mebbe one day you'll figger that out yerself." He returned his attention to the mop and bucket. "Now if you'll 'scuse me, I gots work ta do."

Jareth stared at his back for a long moment, eyes smoldering with rage. How dare he, how _dare_ speak to the Goblin King in such a way?

The answer struck him like a thunderbolt. He dared, because he loved. His love for Sarah was stronger than his fear of punishment, even from one who could easily take his life.

Without another word, Jareth vanished in a shower of black sparkles.

**oOo**

Sarah had just emerged from the bath when Jareth reappeared, startling her. She still wasn't used to his abrupt appearances and departures, and especially wasn't in the mood tonight. But when she went to brush past him, he grabbed her by the arm, turning her toward him without a word. When she opened her mouth to protest, he silenced her in usual fashion, by kissing her.

There was a kind of fury to the kiss, a harshness that felt almost desperate as Jareth forced her lips open beneath his, as he pulled her naked body closer to his. Still without speaking or allowing her the breath to do so, he walked her backward until stopped by the warm marble wall. As he pressed even tighter against her she felt his clothes melting away, his hands running down her arms until they reached her wrists. He let go and reached instead for her hips, hoisting her effortlessly in the air, her backside still resting against the wall.

Sarah squeaked in alarm, automatically wrapping her arms around his neck to steady herself. He used that moment's distraction to slide between her legs, settling her thighs against his hips and thrusting into her in the same motion. She cried out at the sensation, dimly realizing that she'd been more than ready for him, that her body had continued to ignore her mind's wishes as it always seemed to do so. Then she lost herself completely in the moment, fingers entwining themselves in his hair, eyes clenching shut as he settled into a steady rocking motion that jarred her spine but raised prickles of heat throughout the rest of her body. At some point her legs had hooked themselves at the ankles behind his back, resting on his buttocks, her hips thrusting as best they could to match the frantic rhythm of his movements.

As she cried out in release he buried his face in her neck, calling her name over and over again as he reached his own climax seconds later. Her eyes snapped open in shock; he'd never called her name before, not once during the entire month they'd been together, and there was nothing of mockery about it, either. Indeed, his voice held the same strange desperation as his eyes and that initial kiss.

He pulled away after a moment, easing her back to a standing position, but she left her arms around his neck. To steady herself, yes, but also because she found herself strangely reluctant to break the contact between them. He'd said nothing since appearing except her name, and he remained silent as he looked down at her.

For the first time, there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes; before Sarah could comment on it, he vanished, leaving her alone once more. She shuddered in the aftermath of the moment, then moved on numb feet to the edge of the bath. Lowering herself to the edge of the sunken tub, she slid back under the beguiling warmth.

It was a long time before she emerged, and this time, she remained alone while she dressed herself in the green robe and walked out of the bathing chamber. She ignored the still unopened trunks and rifled through the one with her own clothes, digging out her favorite nightgown and a pair of her own underpants. She put them on, leaving the robe where it fell, before climbing into bed.

She waited a long time, but Jareth never came back. Finally, after many hours of tossing and turning, she fell asleep.

When she woke in the morning, she was still alone.


	11. Together Apart

**oOo**

Jareth was pacing; he seemed to be doing a lot of that these days. He blamed Sarah, of course; who knew the girl would be so much trouble even after acceding to his demands? His rightful demands, he reminded himself hastily. Demands she agreed to. Demands that were well within his rights to make.

"Damn her!" he burst out, unable to contain himself a moment longer. No one had ever caused him to doubt himself before. So why her, why now? "Why indeed," he murmured, more quietly this time.

A small "ahem" came from behind him. He turned, scowling furiously, but the scowl softened to a smile as he beheld one of his changelings standing timidly at the door to his private study. "What is it, Sihve?"

The goblin who had once been an abused, neglected child of the human world smiled shyly up at his king. The king who, to his mind, had saved him, given him a new life and a chance to live in a world filled with magic. "Chef wants to know about dinner tonight," he whispered, still unable to bring himself to speak any louder than that. A short lifetime of being told to shut his gob had done its damage; it would take centuries of life as a goblin to erase such abuse.

Jareth stooped to bring his head to the same level as that of the changeling. He reached out and tousled the nest of unruly feathers that rested where tangled brown hair had once covered the boy's head. "Tell Chef to pick it out himself tonight," he advised the youngster gravely. "Tell him the king has other things on his mind."

No matter how much those "other things" might trouble him, he would never take it out on one of his changelings. Regular goblins, yes; changelings, never. They would never feel the toe of his boot on their backsides or hear the angry words that frequently found their way off his tongue.

In fact, he usually sent them away from the palace and the Labyrinth once the transformation had been wrought, but Sihve was different, one who had actually managed to trick his misbegotten parents to wish him away; he'd a drop of Fae blood in him somewhere, Jareth could tell; how else would a mere mortal have been able to intuit the one way into a better life Underground, without having first been prompted into it?

Someone like Sarah, who had been given a copy of a story in order to manipulate her into saying the right words at the right time…Jareth felt his teeth gnashing and rose back to his feet. "Tell Chef what I said, and he can have it ready whenever he likes. Thank you, Sihve."

"Yessir," Sihve whispered, then scurried back out of the room, tugging the door shut behind him.

**oOo**

Sarah was sunning herself. She'd found a nice wide ledge overlooking the castle's west side, and was enjoying the feel of the Underground sun on her skin. Idly wondering about the sense of calling another dimension or world "The Underground" and yet plainly having day and night cycles, she closed her eyes and concentrated on enjoying the moment.

She was wearing a pair of denim shorts and green-and-yellow cropped t-shirt, a pair of bright yellow flip-flops sitting on the ledge next to her. She was reveling in the ability to wear her own clothes again, ignoring for now the other trunks Jareth had delivered to their shared room.

She frowned at the thought. It was the middle of the afternoon, three days since that incredible night in the bathing chamber, and she still hadn't seen hide nor long blonde hair of the Goblin King. She told herself that suited her, but knew even as she thought it that it was a lie. Somehow or other she found herself missing him now that he wasn't around, and for the life of her she couldn't find a way to justify that to herself.

She should have been ecstatic; after all, she'd had three days and nights to do whatever she wanted, three days and nights of not fighting herself as well as him when he was in the mood for sex…and face it, she'd come to the conclusion that he was _always_ in the mood, hadn't she? Which meant she should be enjoying this unexpected break from his attention even more.

She leaned her head back against the sun-warmed wall and side. In spite of everything she _should_ feel, what she _did_ feel was…kind of lonely. Lonely for Jareth in particular. Oh, sure, she'd found ways to fill the days; at least he hadn't taken away the magic door to the bedchamber. She was particularly fond of the time she was able to spend in the library, although at first she'd been horrified by the condition of the room, the dust lying thick on every surface, books and scrolls in haphazard heaps on the shelves, no organization at all…It had been fun, raging at the goblins who were supposed to be in charge there, but there was only so much time she wanted to spend cleaning up someone else's mess, even if it was in a good cause.

There was also the time spent just wandering the maze of a castle and trying to figure out how not to get lost in its turns and twists, not to mention hanging out with Ludo and Sir Didymus, resisting the urge to help them with their chores (they begged her not to, so she ultimately gave in). She'd even spent time searching for Hoggle, who seemed to be doing his best to avoid her. In fact, she'd just complained about that to Chef before wandering up here to look out over the Labyrinth.

She blew an aggravated sigh; Hoggle and a certain Goblin King seemed to have that much in common, a desire to avoid her. "I can't even imagine _why_ Hoggle's avoiding me," she complained aloud.

"Cause mebbe he feels too guilty fer bein' the reason yer stuck here," came a gruff, familiar voice from behind her.

Sarah turned, a wide smiling lighting up her face. "Hoggle!" She hopped down from the window ledge and forced a hug on him.

Behind her back he allowed a sad smile to cross his features; all he allowed her to see, however, was a scowl as he pulled himself out of the embrace. "Sorry. Didymus tole me you was lookin' fer me, gave me a right scoldin' about it, too. Figgered I owed ya an apology."

Sarah shook her head and settled down on the stone floor beneath the window, hugging her knees to her chest. "No, it's all right. But I wish you wouldn't feel guilty, Hoggle," she added gently. "You and I both know that Jareth would have found a way to drag me here even if he didn't have you three to hold over my head."

Hoggle cast a puzzled glance ceilingward, then shrugged and squatted next to her. "Yer prob'ly right," he agreed glumly. "Still, it don't make it right." His craggy features lit up with an unexpected grin. "It don't make it fair, neither."

Sarah burst out laughing. "Yeah, it doesn't," she agreed after the laughter finally died down. "But I got over expecting things to be fair a long time ago. We just have to take what life hands us and do our best with it."

"I miss the gardens," Hoggle admitted in a burst of truthfulness that startled him more than Sarah. She'd always believed more in her friend than he did himself. "Them damn fairies is getting' outta hand down there; the under-gardeners don't know what they're doin' half the time."

"Jareth said he's keeping you on castle duty until I leave," Sarah murmured sympathetically. "If he ever comes to see me again, I'll see if I can convince him to let you back into the gardens."

"Nah, don't fret yerself over me…wait, whaddayer mean, if he ever comes ter see ya again?" Hoggle looked and sounded confused. "Thought he had ya tucked away inter his royal bedchamber?"

Sarah blushed at the implications, but nodded in agreement. "I'm still sleeping there, all my stuff is there, what little I have, but I haven't seen Jareth for the last couple of days. Is he still in the castle?"

Hoggle nodded, gnawing at one gnarled finger uneasily. "Yeah, he's here. Been spendin' a lotta time in his study, some a' t'other goblins say, but I didn't realize…you say it's been the last coupla days, didja?" Sarah nodded, offering him a puzzled look that he ignored. "Well, whaddaya know. Mebbe I got through ta him after all."

"You talked to him? About me?" Sarah demanded. She reached over and shook his arm. "What did you say? What did _he_ say?"

"Ow, hey, quit diggen' yer nails so hard," Hoggle grumbled, and Sarah eased her grip. "I ain't said nothin' much, jes' mentioned how love was worth the pain it causes." He ducked his head in embarrassment. "He didn't seem much on believin' me, but he didn't punish me none fer speakin' my mind."

"When? When did you talk to him?" Sarah demanded.

Hoggle scratched his head. "Well, lessee, it musta been, what two, three nights ago." He thought a moment longer. "Yeah, three nights ago." He shrugged. "He didn't give me no extra punishment, so I guess I didn't offend 'im as much as I thought."

With a grunt he heaved himself back to his feet. "Gotta be goin' now, Sarah. You jest hang in there, right? Time'll be up afore ya know it. Been over a month already, right?" He scuffed his feet together, then raised his head and looked her directly in the eyes. "Tole ya we weren't worth it, but ya still come. I never thanked ye fer that. So I'm doin' it now. Thank ye. And when ya get back home, don't never do nothin' to make him come after ye again, ya hear?"

With that he was off, not giving Sarah time to do more than open her mouth. She left it open, staring after him as he vanished around a corner, not bothering to get to her feet and chase after him. Knowing this place, he'd disappear behind a stone in the wall she'd never take for a door if she did.

He'd certainly given her a lot to think about. So, Jareth and Hoggle had spoken together about love, of all things. What's more, they'd spoken about it that last night that Jareth had come to her. Their "anniversary" night. Interesting.

The floor was cold, so she stood back up and slipped her flip-flops back onto her feet, leaning on the window ledge. After a moment of gazing unseeingly across the Labyrinth, she re-took her original seat, leaning against the left side and resting her feet against the right.

She sat there until sunset, alone with her thoughts.

When she returned to Jareth's room later that evening, she found dinner waiting for her.

Dinner, and the Goblin King himself.


	12. Cautious Inroads

**Warning: Sex. Yay!**

* * *

**oOo**

Jareth studied Sarah as she entered the room, eyebrow raised at the sight of her attire. "Well. You look very…colorful…this evening."

Sarah glanced down at herself; she'd forgotten what she was wearing and blushed for no reason she could imagine. "I wanted to wear something comfortable. Something that reminded me of home," she added, a defiant note creeping into her voice. She raised her chin and gave him a challenging look.

He merely shrugged and leaned back in the chair he was occupying. The one she liked so much. The one he enjoyed teasing her by sitting in at every opportunity; she got so very angry when he did so, and she looked so beguiling when angry that he couldn't resist.

"So." She walked slowly over to join him in front of the fire. "I thought there were no nights off."

Ah, leave it to her to come right to the point. And to challenge him even when he gave her something she said she wanted. He shrugged. "I told you; I can change my mind any time I like. Hungry?" He indicated the tray, sitting on its usual place on the tufted bench in front of the fire.

She hesitated, then looked down at her clothes. "Sure you don't want me to change first?"

"Absolutely not; I find your choice of attire…charming." She couldn't tell from his tone if he was serious or not, but decided to take him at his word. After all, he was the one who told her that sometimes things in the Underground were exactly what they seemed.

After sparing a moment to glare at the back of his head for taking her favorite chair again, she plopped into the one opposite him, kicking off her flip-flops and curling her feet up under her. She actually did want to change, since it got more than chilly in the castle once night fell, but getting up to do so now would feel like surrendering. Surrendering to what she wasn't sure, but didn't want to spend any time analyzing it. She'd spent way too much time in her own head since Hoggle left her.

"So," she said after finishing the delicious meal Chef had prepared this evening. "Where've you been lately? Not that I care," she added hastily, correctly interpreting the smug grin on his face as representing some kind of triumph over the fact that she asked at all. "Just wondering, that's all."

"Believe it or not, I do have other responsibilities than entertaining you," he replied. "I've been attending to things I've neglected while helping you settle in here." He leaned back in his chair, wiping his lips delicately with the snowy white napkin that had formerly resided on his lap. "And how have you spent your days? Besides berating my librarians, of course," he added with a smirk. Just to let her know that he was fully aware of her own activities, even if she had no idea how _he_ had spent _his_ time.

"They deserved it!" Sarah said indignantly. She barely noticed when the tray and its burden of empty plates and utensils vanished. "That place is disgusting! How can you let them treat books like that?"

He smiled at her; so passionate about something he generally cared very little for. "Very well," he replied with a careless wave of the hand. "The library is now your responsibility. I'll see to it that the goblins know to do as you say as regards to its contents and condition."

"Why?" Sarah stared at him. Damn, he'd managed to catch her off guard yet again.

"Well, you can hardly spend your days waiting in bed for me, as enticing an image as that is," Jareth replied, standing up and stretching in a very cat-like manner, head to toe; Sarah watched, entranced, barely hearing his words. "Most humans, I've found, like to feel useful, and the work, as you so eloquently pointed out, needs doing. Since you've found something you feel so passionately about, who am I to keep you from it?"

His voice lowered to almost a purr at those last words, enhancing his cat-like qualities. He'd removed his gloves and jacket before Sarah entered the room, and left them lying on the back of the chair as he walked over to her and sank down on his haunches in front of her. "Unless you'd rather not," he added, holding her gaze with his own, eyebrow crooked enquiringly.

She shook her head, swallowing hard before answering. "No, having some kind of responsibility here would be...I mean, thanks."

He leaned forward to kiss her, teasing her lips with his own until they parted, allowing him entry. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment. Dinner had been quiet, enjoyable, and the three days apart had done absolutely nothing to her body's automatic response to his touch; she shivered lightly, then found herself wrapped in his arms, settled firmly against his lap. "Cold?" he asked, his voice a velvety whisper.

She shook her head "no," then shivered again as his hands ran lightly up and down her back. His lips had moved from her face to her neck, and the shivers increased as he nipped delicately at the joining of neck and collarbone. Although her automatic response was to push him away, as usual her body had other ideas. Her hands crept their way up his chest to rest on his shoulders, and her legs curled around his body much as they had during their last encounter up against the bathing chamber wall.

Before she realized it their clothing had melted away, only to reappear on the bench; she watched in astonishment as she saw her yellow flip-flops materialize, sitting decorously next to her folded t-shirt and shorts, the strap of her bra peeping out from under Jareth's lacy white shirt. Then her attention returned to the man sitting literally underneath her as she felt the heat growing between his legs, bringing an answering warmth to her own body. _To hell with fighting it,_ she thought suddenly, and leaned down to capture a kiss from Jareth, initiating things for the first time.

His eyes gleamed with pleasure as her tongue darted between his lips, as she squirmed into a more comfortable position on his lap. Since that position included allowing him to slide easily into her, he was more than happy to accommodate her.

They moved together easily, no resistance on her part either physically or mentally for the first time, and Jareth marveled at what a difference it made. Oh, the physical aspect was as spectacular as always, but knowing that she wasn't fighting him made it even more intoxicating. As she writhed against him, raining kisses on his face and neck, he murmured his pleasure against her throat, moaning with delight as he felt her reach the apex of pleasure and collapse against him.

He rolled her onto her back, depositing her gently on the thick fur floor covering while he reached his own climax, her legs still firmly clamped around his waist.

Jareth was the first to let go this time, to ease away from her. He snapped his fingers and a pair of soft cloths appeared; handing one to her he took care of cleaning himself, then rested on his side, head on hand, and gazed at her, wondering at her change of heart. Had leaving her alone for three nights truly brought on this miraculous change in attitude?

_Ah, but it's what you've wanted all along,_ his mind whispered to him. _Remember? You want her to beg you to let her stay, and you plan to reject her as coldly as she rejected you six mortal years ago._

He ignored the voice, knowing it for his own yet choosing not to listen to it. Not tonight. Nothing would spoil this perfect moment. He bent down and placed a reverent kiss on Sarah's abdomen. She'd abandoned her own cloth, tossing it next to his, and simply lay on her back, smiling up at the ceiling. She reached up and caressed his face when he returned to his original position.

"OK, maybe I'm an idiot, but I guess being here with you hasn't been so bad," she said, fingers moving to toy with the ends of his hair.

His smile deepened, and he captured her fingers, kissing the tips one by one and raising another shiver of delight over her body. "Good," was all he replied before returning his attention to the rest of her body. This night would be one for the record books, if he had anything to say about it; his victory was near, and far sooner than even he'd dared to hope.


	13. The Calm Before

**Warning: More sex. (Whoo-hoo!)**

* * *

**Day Ninety (Two Months Later)**

Sarah was singing, crazy as it sounded. Not to mention a little off-tune, but there was no one to hear her so it really didn't matter.

She was alone in the library, her absolute favorite place to be within the confines of the palace walls. The gardens were her favorite outdoor place, but it was winter now and bitterly cold, no time to be out bug-spraying fairies (nasty little pests). Hoggle might enjoy tromping around all day in the cold, but not her. Sledding once in a while, yes (and hadn't it been fun to teach the younger goblins about that winter sport!), but that was about it. As long as Chef's version of hot chocolate kept coming, either after a day outdoors or here in the library, she was content.

No, more than content. She broke off in mid-song to contemplate the idea that she was actually happy here, in her temporary home away from home. "Well, I must be," she said aloud, shaking her head ruefully. "I was singing like an idiot!"

"Rather more like a lark, my dear."

Sarah smiled without turning around. She'd know that dark, silky voice anywhere. "Nice try, Jareth," she said lightly, returning the book she was holding to its place on the shelf. "We both know I can't sing worth a darn."

"Yet your singing is music to my ears," he countered. She felt his hands slide across her shoulders, pulling her around to face him, and she allowed the movement, hiding the smile on her face. The one that kept trying to break out at odd moments. "To hear you sing is to know that you are happy."

That did it. The smile spread across her face, but she ducked her head before he saw it and feigned a disinterested shrug. "I guess," she mumbled.

Sarah felt his fingers on her chin, gently moving her face up so he could see her. And so she, of course, could see him. Yes, the circumstances of her arrival here had been horrid, but Jareth had been nothing but wonderful to her ever since he'd admitted to covering for her absence in the mortal world. So she didn't bother hiding the smile again as he cocked his head to one side and asked: "I beg your pardon?" He cupped a hand to one ear as if having hearing problems. "What was that you said?"

She swatted his hand away from her face. "You heard me," she said, then tip-toed up to reach his lips with her own. After a very satisfying kiss, she settled back on her feet with a contented sigh, nestling her head against his chest. She felt his arms come around her, holding her close, and encircled his waist with her own arms, clasping her hands together behind his back.

It didn't take long before his hold went from comfortable encirclement to…something else. She smiled against his chest as she felt Jareth's arms moving in small circles, up and down her back, sweeping his way from shoulders to waist, then lower with each sweep until his hands were gently fondling her buttocks through the thick, red material of her gown.

"Hmm, I think we both know where this is going," Jareth murmured against her hair, causing a delicious shiver to run down her back. "Shall we repair to a more…accommodating location?"

In response she lifter her head for another kiss, eyes dark with desire. "What, the library reading tables not good enough for you?" she asked, pressing tightly against him and moving her hips in a deliberately provocative motion against his.

With a swift intake of breath Jareth moved like a snake striking, lifting Sarah in his arms and laying her back on the oversized oak table. "A challenge," he growled as he joined her, pinning her to the hard wooden surface. "I never could resist one." He kissed her, relishing the feel of her lips, supple and compliant, beneath his. "Which is why I never could resist you," he added, surprising himself with the confession as much as he delighted Sarah with the same words.

What was it about her that made him lose control of his tongue so easily? Speaking of which…he closed off his thoughts and deepened the kiss, losing himself completely in the feel of Sarah, captive beneath him, her hands eagerly pulling at his clothing, her lips and tongue eagerly joining his own. For once he let her remove his clothing and did the same for her, rather than using magic to simply melt them away. She giggled as she sought buttons, ties, cuff links, removing and releasing all impediments even as he busied himself doing the same to her.

Not giggling, of course, but allowing a manly chuckle to escape his lips as he fumbled behind her back and worked his way through the myriad of buttons the cursed dress required to keep it closed and warm against her flesh. The only thing he wanted against her flesh right now was himself, and he almost gave in to his impatience and used magic, but held back, forcing himself to savor instead the anticipation of the moment to come.

The last button reached, he gave a triumphant "Ah!" and slid the gown down her arms, immediately lowering his lips to the exposed flesh of her breasts and busying himself there while she continued to unbutton his shirt. Once removed she dropped it to the floor to join the rest of his clothes while he kicked his shoes off and shoved the fabric of her skirt up around her waist. She giggle again as he exposed her legs, and he almost lost control when he realized she was wearing nothing beneath the gown; no underdrawers, no chemise, not even a pair of her own panties from Aboveground. His fingers slid across flesh, firm and warm, thumb rubbing gently along the tuft of dark hair between her legs, eliciting a moan that filled him with satisfaction.

He continued the gentle motion with his thumb as he nuzzled his way from one breast to the other, nipping the dark peaks into quivering attention, while Sarah squirmed and tried to remove his pants without actually removing him from his position above her. The frantic movements slowed and stopped, however, as his thumb moved from outside to the moist depths within, stroking and teasing, his tongue and lips never ceasing in their caresses, until her hips moved under the rhythm he'd created and a series of small gasps escaped her lips, increasing in volume as he increased in speed.

She cried aloud as she reached her climax, grasping his arms in her hands, shuddering as she begged him to enter her. "Come on, Jareth, what are you waiting for? Help me get these stupid trousers off," she moaned, once again reaching for his waistline and the non-existent zipper she'd been seeking.

He leaned back, kneeling above her, smiling as she finally opened her eyes and gazed up at him, watching silently as he undid the trousers and pulled them down around his knees. That was as far as he got before she pulled herself up to join him, then yanked them both back down on the table, legs parted, another gasp of anticipation escaping her lips as he resisted her urging and hesitated above her. "Truly? This is truly what you want?" he teased.

"Yes!" she cried, and he plunged into her at the word. It was a little difficult logistically, but he managed to both their satisfaction, bringing her to a second climax only moments before his own.

As he collapsed atop her, hands tangled in her dark coils of hair, Jareth heard a squeak of alarm from the door, which he then heard hastily thud shut behind whichever luckless goblin had happened upon them. Sarah was giggling again, hiding her face against his shoulder, and he could feel the flush of heat on her skin that had less to do with lovemaking and more to do with mortification, but after all, she'd been the one to insist they stay here, which Jareth was quick to point out to her.

"Yeah, but only because no one ever comes here!" she replied, refusing to meet his gaze. "Ever! Not unless I specifically ask them to, which I most definitely did not!"

"Well, I shan't seek the culprit out," Jareth reassured her as he rolled onto his side and materialized a pair of soft cloths for them to clean themselves with. He took care of the necessities and shifted himself so he could pull his trousers back up and refasten them. "But it seems to me, my lady, that you laid a very cunning trap for me today." He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. "Unless, of course, you generally run about the castle with no underclothes?"

She grinned up at him, wrinkling her nose impertinently. "Caught me. Yeah, I planned this whole thing. Sort of. It's hard to plan anything when I never know if you'll show up or not." Her grin widened. "Would you believe I spent the last three days in here without panties, just waiting for you to interrupt me at work?"

"Then I shall have to remember to do so more often," he replied, then rolled off the table and reached for the rest of his clothing. "You've distracted me so thoroughly I almost forgot why I sought you out in the first place."

Sarah was sitting up, tugging her skirts into place and thrusting her arms back into the long sleeves of her dress. "Oh? Why was that?" she asked, reaching around to try and button herself back up.

Jareth hauled her to her feet and spun her around so he could finish the job. "If you were thinking straight you'd know why," he scolded lightly, planting a feathery kiss on her exposed shoulder before buttoning the last few buttons. "Chef and your other friends are waiting very impatiently for us even as we speak. The cake came out quite beautifully," he added, eyes twinkling.

She turned to face him, confused. "A cake? Why?'

Jareth leaned forward and planted a tender kiss on her lips. "Happy Anniversary, Sarah. I thought this month you'd like to share it with everyone instead of just me."

Her eyes filled with sudden tears. "Thank you," she whispered, and he whisked her away, transporting them both into the kitchen.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the loooong delay, but everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, in the house was sick last week, and still have leftover coughs and sniffles this week. Please bear with me; I promise this story will continue and conclude and not be left hanging in Labyrinth Limbo. Or Lymbo, as the case may be. :)_


	14. Before The Storm

**The Next Day**

"She don't know what yer doin' to her, do she?"

The self-satisfied smile fled from Jareth's face as he heard the quiet, accusatory question from behind him. Hogmarsh, of course; the dratted dwarf didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. "Whatever I'm doing to 'her', by whom I assume you mean Sarah, is none of your business," he snapped, wondering why he even bothered; with a snap of his fingers the troublesome runt would be banished from the castle, although the Goblin King suspected only death would keep him from returning to Sarah's side at the first opportunity.

He returned to gazing out of the small, round window he'd caused to appear in the wall next to his throne. "You're dismissed, Hogbutt," he growled, not bothering to turn around. "And you'd be well advised to keep your over-large nose out of my business."

"Sarah's my business, too," Hoggle insisted, standing his ground, waiting until the Goblin King finally turned his head, a black frown staining his features as he glared at the dwarf. "What you done to her in the first place was bad enough, but we c'n see what yer doin' to her now, and that ain't right." He shook his massive head slowly. "It ain't right at all."

"And what, precisely, do you think I'm doing to her?" Jareth asked, throwing himself onto his throne, one leg dangling idly over the arm as he modified his gaze into something a little less threatening. It was more work scowling than worth it, especially since his rebellious minion wasn't allowing himself to be intimidated like any other goblin would.

"Yer lullin' her into a false sense o' security," Hoggle replied matter-of-factly. "We all seen it last night, when ya tole us ye was givin' her a party an' wanted us there. Well, I seen it," he corrected himself, remembering that Ludo and Didymus were as dim about the Goblin King's true intentions as Sarah was, poor child. "Me an' Chef, anyway."

Jareth smirked down at Hoggle. "What if I am? What if," he leaned forward, pinning the dwarf with his gaze, "my entire intention in getting Sarah here is not just to satisfy my considerable carnal urges, but to avenge myself on her for her rejection of me after she ran the Labyrinth and saved her cursed brat of a brother? What if my ultimate plan is to get her to fall in love with me, to beg me to allow her to stay here…and to coldly reject her and send her home once her year-and-a-day are up, then cut her off from all contact with the Underground for the rest of her mortal life? What do you intend to do about it, if such are my plans?"

Hoggle swallowed, an audible gulp escaping his throat as he considered what he'd just been told. "I'd let Sarah know," he said, the rising inflection at the end of the sentence turning it into a half-question.

"And what do you think I'd do to you if you gave her such information?" Jareth purred, lips narrowing in a dangerous smile. Hoggle backed up a step, fear finally beating out righteous indignation. "Do you think I'd let you live to tell? Or survive the telling if you did get that far?" He raised one hand; in it a crystal appeared. "I think it's time for you to take a little vacation, gardener. When Sarah has been returned Aboveground, you'll be allowed to return here." He released the bubble, and Hoggle, frozen, watched as it neared, expanding as it did so until it surrounded him.

With an audible "pop", the bubble vanished, along with the trapped dwarf.

Jareth leaned back on his throne with a sigh. Why hadn't he simply eliminated the problem in a more permanent manner? _Because Sarah would hate you if you did,_ his mind whispered to him.

"And so what if she did?" he snapped aloud. "That's the point of this entire exercise, to destroy her, make her hate me as much as I hated her at the end of her last visit to my realm." A visit that was meant to be permanent, but she'd roundly rejected him. "And so I'll reject her," he whispered, but the words felt hollow somehow.

As for the dwarf, why waste his time and energy killing him when it would be so much more delicious to free him from the trap in time to see Sarah out of his reach forever? Yes, that was why he spared him, not out of some misplaced sense of fair play or honor, not to spare Sarah's feelings. Besides, he didn't want her hating him, not just yet. That was for later. Nine more months to go.

Then she could hate him all she wanted.

He just wished that thought gave him the sense of satisfaction it once had.

**oOo**

"Sir Didymus! Have you seen Hoggle?"

The fox-like goblin cocked his head to one side and stared up at Sarah. "Not today, my lady, but our schedules have placed us on opposite ends of the castle the past many days." His ears perked up and his tail gave a slight wag. "Shall I seek him out for you? A quest!" He half-shouted the last two words eagerly and Sarah stifled a grin at his enthusiasm.

"No, I just wanted to talk to him about the party last night. He didn't seem like he was having a good time."

"Ah, of course, my lady. But then," Didymus added gently, "He doth often seem that way."

They were standing in the corridor outside the library. Sarah had been on her way to organize a few more shelves when she'd crossed paths with her friend, on his way to whatever chore Jareth had arranged for him today. No matter what it was, how menial or messy, he always met it with his usual cheerful enthusiasm.

"I'm sure you're right," Sarah said, forcing a reassuring smile for Didymus, but something was wrong, she knew it; Hoggle had been even more dourly pessimistic than usual last night; she'd almost call his mood melancholy when everyone else had been celebrating. It had taken her a while to notice, but then Ludo had fallen into a vat of something unidentifiable, splashing it all over the place while Chef yelled and Didymus danced around and yapped excitedly and Ambrosias hid under the table and Jareth sat in a corner and smirked at them all. She'd been too busy laughing and trying to extract Ludo from the pot firmly wedged across his bottom and trying to calm Chef down to pay any more attention to Hoggle. When things had finally settled back down, the dwarf had slipped away, leaving her determined to speak to him this morning, to see what was bothering him this time.

She sincerely hoped it had nothing to do with her, but had her doubts. Jareth had given his word; her friends weren't to be punished any further than their current castle-cleaning duties for defying him in the past, and there weren't any restrictions on them visiting with her now. The party was proof of that; so what was wrong with Hoggle? When she tracked him down she'd get the truth out of him; he'd never been very good a lying to her, especially now that she was older and more experienced in that area, sadly enough.

She spent the morning searching him out, to no avail. No one had seen him, but everyone was helpful. Perhaps he was in the kitchens with Chef. No. Perhaps he'd gone to the gardens. No. The library, the turrets, even the dungeons. No, no, no.

"Hoggle, where the hell are you?" Sarah groused as she emerged, dusty and cob-web draped, from an unused storeroom in what would be the attics of an Aboveground house.

With a determined stride she headed for the one place she knew he wasn't, but Jareth was; the throne room. If anyone could find Hoggle, it was the Goblin King. He seemed to have some sort of sixth sense when it came to finding anyone within the castle walls.

She paused just outside the half-opened doors as she heard Jareth speaking to someone. Not wanting to interrupt, she almost backed away when she heard her own name being spoken by the unseen other person with whom Jareth was deep in conversation. "What about your little 'friend,' Sarah?"

"What about her?" Jareth sounded irritated, and Sarah froze in the act of backing away and leaving him in peace. "You know my plans. They haven't changed."

"Are you sure?" The voice was female, and from the silken tones, definitely not the voice of a goblin. That suspicion was confirmed when the voice's owner stepped into view, stopping at the foot of Jareth's throne and looking up at him with a devilish smile on her perfect face. The woman was obviously one of the Fae she knew Jareth was a member of, with skin like porcelain, eyes a deep, cerulean blue, and flowing red hair framing a perfect oval of a face. The hair fell in waves nearly to her feet, and glinted here and there with gold and silver strands woven amongst the red. She wore a deep green gown that covered her from neck to wrists to ankles and yet managed to look revealing at the same time, clinging to her slender form and outlining hips and buttocks and breasts like a second skin.

Sarah felt a flush of jealousy; who was this, and why hadn't Jareth introduced her? Then common sense reminded her that the visitor, whoever she was, might have only just arrived. But then, the woman knew something about Sarah, so she had every right to listen in and find out more. It was the least she could do before rushing to judgment, or so Sarah told herself.

All this passed through her mind in a flash, before Jareth could even respond to the stranger's question. "Of course I'm sure," he said, still sounding irritated.

Sarah relaxed a little; good, let him be irritated with the stranger. But the tension returned at his next words: "She's well on her way to falling in love with me. Just like I planned. And just like I planned, at the end of her term of service," there was that hateful term again, "she'll no doubt ask to be allowed to stay."

"And then you'll send her packing?" the woman asked, tossing her head challengingly. "And finally make your decision about a wife and heir? You've been putting those decisions off for far too long, Jareth. You-know-who is getting rather impatient."

"Let him," Jareth snapped, but Sarah no longer heard them, her thumping heartbeat and the sudden rush of blood in her ears drowning out all other sounds. She stumbled back a step, then another, then turned and fled down the corridor, eyes filling with tears, stomach roiling, feeling only the need to get far, far away.

**oOo**

Jareth paused, turning his sharp gaze toward the half-open doors. What was that sound? He rose from his throne and brushed past his visitor, peering down the hall. No one. He shrugged and turned back to regard the woman still standing in front of his now-empty throne.

"Lysira, we've been over this a thousand times or more these past several centuries," he said, kicking the door shut behind him with one booted heel. "Father will just have to continue waiting. When I'm ready to marry and produce an heir, I promise he'll be the first to know."

"It's not just Father," Lysira countered, stepping forward and laying a concerned hand on his forearm. "Mother's worried too. If you continue being exclusive to this mortal you've taken captive, then who know how long it will take for your seed to find fertile ground. You know how difficult it is for one of us to get with child these days…"

He waved her off impatiently. "Yes, yes, I know. Father and Mother were blessed to have not one but two children born to them, we are the only twins born in the Fae realms in centuries, etc., etc. Which speaks well for our family's fertility," he felt constrained to point out. "How many half-siblings do we have littered about as well? Three? Four?"

"There are three brothers and a sister, all half-human, as you well know," Lysira said with a glare. "And just because Father has a proven track record when it comes to impregnating various females both Human and Fae doesn't mean you will as well. You've no bastards roaming about and so far you've not got any on your little human plaything, either."

"It's only for a year and a day," he said, biting back the desire to snap at his sister for calling Sarah a "plaything." After all, that was exactly what she was. Wasn't she? Ignoring the troublesome part of his mind that wanted to argue with him about that, he concentrated on the conversation at hand. "Sarah's only been here a few months; who knows, she might be the one to give me my heir. Then Father can start focusing on someone else for a change." His gaze sharpened and a humorless smile appeared on his lips. "You, for example. How many lovers have you taken over the centuries, sister mine? One? Two? Certainly not the dozens Mother had already taken and discarded by the time she was your age."

"That's none of your concern," she snapped back. "We're talking about you, not me. I've delivered the message; I'll let Father know you're as stubborn as ever, although I don't see why you've stopped seducing other women for the past five years. Oh yes, word gets around," she added, noting his surprised expression. "Rumor has it you've been pining away over one female, to the point of losing interest in all others. And now suddenly you've got a mortal consort whom you claim you intend to throw aside after her year and a day are up."

"That is exactly what I intend!" Jareth blazed up indignantly. "Stop trying to read more into the situation than exists. Sarah bested me at the Labyrinth…"

"Which you set up in its current configuration just to try and seduce her in the first place," Lysira interjected smoothly. "Oh, don't try to deny it, Brother," she added mockingly. "You were interested in her back then, and instead of doing what any other Fae would do, you had to make a game of it, try to get her to want you without resorting to the usual Glamours. And it backfired, and now you claim to want vengeance, when we both know what's really going on."

"And what might that be?" Jareth snarled, enraged at the way the conversation was heading. How dare his sister say such things? _How dare she have such insight into your motives?_ the mocking voice in his head whispered back.

"You're in love with her, and you simply don't want to admit it."

Jareth's mouth was opened to deliver a scathing retort, and remained open as he considered the fact that his sister might be right. Slowly he closed his mouth and turned away. "Good-bye, Lysira," was all he said. "Please send my regards to Mother and Father. And tell them…tell them I will have an answer for them regarding my romantic future…shortly."

* * *

_A/N: As frequently happens to me, characters make their insistent way into stories in which I never intended them to exist. Thus Lysira; I needed Sarah to overhear Jareth and this scene practically wrote itself. Please tell me what you think (and I promise faithfully that there will be more sex and less OCs in the future.)_


	15. Busted

Sarah looked around, focusing on her surroundings for the first time since fleeing the throne room.

Her breath heaving in her chest, she realized she'd fled to the library. Why there? It was usually deserted, for one thing, and for another it was her special place. The place she'd been given responsibility for…

She felt a harsh laugh escape her throat and clamped her lips shut before the laughter turned hysterical. Responsibility. No, it was one more trap that Jareth had laid for her, one more strand of the web he'd been entangling her in ever since her arrival in the Underground.

"_She's well on her way to falling in love with me. Just like I planned."_

Was it true, could it be true? Jareth had said it, Jareth hadn't expected her to be eavesdropping on his private conversation, so it must be true. Either he was lying to her or he was lying to that other woman, and Sarah knew which was more likely. _"And just like I planned, at the end of her term of service, she'll no doubt ask to be allowed to stay."_

He'd said it himself, when he first brought her to the Underground. Payback, he'd said. Payback and desire. The word "revenge" had never passed his lips but that was what it boiled down to. She'd forgotten that over the past few months, forgotten it because he'd deliberately set out to make her forget it.

"_And then you'll send her packing? And finally make your decision about a wife and heir? You've been putting those decisions off for far too long, Jareth. You-know-who is getting rather impatient."_

She didn't know who "you-know-who" was and didn't care. All she cared about was the fact that Jareth had planned to seduce her and discard her all along, and this red-headed bitch, whoever she was, knew about it and was impatient for him to get it over with, no doubt because she was in the running to become his wife.

She'd been a fool, a stupid, mortal fool, being manipulated by one of the Fae for his own purposes, knowingly putting herself into his power and then allowing herself to believe that it wasn't going to end badly. Jareth was using her, just as he'd said he was in the first place, and she'd allowed herself to be manipulated into believing he'd changed his mind, that he might actually, what? Have feelings for her?

No, all he'd been doing was exactly what her years of studying the fairy tales and folklore of the human world had warned her he would do: seducing her for his own purposes, to discard her when he was finished with her.

Well, she was on to him now. No matter what he said or did, there was absolutely no way he was going to lull her back into a false sense of security. She would remain on her guard the entire time she was forced to be here. Nine more months, then it would be over, and she would go home. But she was damned if she'd give him the satisfaction of knowing how hurt she was, how her heart was breaking.

But there was something she could do, and she only needed Ludo to help her do it. She set off to find her friend, determined not to waste a single minute.

**oOo**

The moon was full tonight. In the Underground, lunar phases were as capricious as the seasons; winter didn't always follow autumn, and a full moon could linger for nearly a fortnight, then not be seen again for another six months. It drove Sarah crazy the first few weeks, Jareth remembered with a fond smile. Then she decided it wasn't worth fretting over and put it out of her mind. Very practical of her.

The smile faded as he recalled what had driven him to the highest parapet tonight. Lysira. He sighed. His sister could be very insistent, and as for their parents…He sighed again. A wife and heir. It always came down to that same argument. Settle down with some highborn Fae and try to get her with child; if that failed, spread your seed far afield and hope it fell on fertile ground, either Fae or human.

"Father should be quite pleased with how often I've bedded Sarah," Jareth muttered to himself sardonically. "If she gets with child, perhaps then he and Mother will stop plaguing me and start in on Lysira." That thought gave him pause; what if Sarah did become pregnant? That was never part of his plans, had never even entered his thoughts until this very day. Perhaps he was one of the Fae destined never to father a child; he'd certainly bedded enough women before Sarah piqued his interest, and not one of them had become pregnant.

Sarah pregnant… His thoughts drifted off, picturing her reaction should such a thing happen. Would she hate him, hate the child? Or grow to love them both, as she seemed to be doing now, with him? Having her fall in love with him had been his plan all along, but when had the plan changed? When, he finally admitted to himself, had he fallen in love with her?

"Troublesome brat," he muttered darkly. When had he allowed her to get so fully, so completely under his skin? What had started off as a just another attempt at seducing a mortal, an innocent, had turned into an obsession, and that obsession had somehow turned into love. An emotion the Fae weren't supposed to feel, certainly not toward a simple mortal woman, a girl, really; no matter how her kind measured maturity by Fae standards Sarah Williams was little more than a child.

Would his father accept her as more than just a consort? The process for turning a mortal into one of the Fae was no light undertaking; enchanting unwanted children into goblins was a different process, one that involved no one's permission but his own and that of the secret heart of the child. Would Sarah even consent to such a process, to staying in the Underground permanently? He would have to confess his original intent to her, there would be no point to offering her immortality with such a lie hanging over his head. Nor would his father allow it; honesty would be the first step Oberon would demand in order for Jareth to prove his seriousness in making the request.

He sighed. What was he thinking? Did he truly want to elevate a mortal to be his queen? It was all Lysira's fault for putting such nonsensical thoughts into his head.

No, he couldn't blame his sister. All she'd done was point out what was already known, deep in his heart.

He loved Sarah Williams. Even his desire to trick her into coming back to the Underground hadn't been motivated by revenge, as he'd convinced himself, but by something as petty as hurt feelings. And now that he had her, he knew what he wanted to do with her. What he'd wanted all along, but had been too stubborn to admit.

Marry her, make her his queen, give her the same virtual immortality he enjoyed, and, the Gods willing, get her with child. A child they could both love, a child to be his heir.

The only thing left to do was find her, tell her how he felt, then confess his original plan and throw himself on her mercy.

Mind made up, he stepped off the edge of the parapet and vanished in mid-fall, reappearing in the chambers he now thought of as belonging to both himself and Sarah.

She wasn't there. Not only wasn't she there, which was unusual at this time of day, but there was something…off…about the room itself. He frowned, turning in a small circle, trying to figure it out.

Nothing was missing; the bed was neatly made, the tapestries (including the rather lewd one over the bed that still managed to make Sarah blush every time her eyes accidentally rested on it) hung neatly in place, the tufted bench sat in front of the fireplace, the chairs… That was it! The chairs. The two chairs that had been rearranged on either end of the bench were missing.

No, not missing. Neatly returned to their original positions. He frowned; why would Sarah put the room back the way it was? He knew for a fact that she preferred having the chairs in front of the fire, knew which one she liked to sit on the best, even if he'd made it an on-going game to take it himself at every opportunity.

None of her books were strewn around the room either, he realized, eyes narrowed. Not that she was sloppy, but she always seemed to have two or three volumes sitting on the bench or the chest at the foot of the bed that held his wardrobe. He walked over to the tapestry hiding the bathing chamber, ignoring the sight of his own reflection a dozen times over on the opposite wall as he walked over to examine Sarah's trunks.

They were all there; no, wait. His frown deepened. The largest chest, the one containing her clothes from Aboveground, it was missing. As was the set of shelves he'd had installed to hold the books she liked to read whilst bathing. He gestured, and the trunks flew open. Each one was full, apparently containing all Sarah's Underground wardrobe.

Something was wrong. Jareth snarled as he vanished from the bedroom, determined to root out the mystery. Why had Sarah's trunk been removed, the furniture rearranged, her books missing? He had his suspicions, but they made no sense.

Unless, of course, Sarah had overheard a conversation she wasn't meant to hear.

He cursed at the thought. That noise he thought he'd heard outside the throne room; what if Sarah… He cursed again. There was only one to find out for sure.

He had to find Sarah.

* * *

_A/N: The only thing worse than eavesdropping? Not eavesdropping long enough to hear the whole story! I hope everyone realized it was only a matter of time before Jareth realized how he felt. If only Sarah knew about his change of heart...we'll see what happens next, eh? R&R-ing is always appreciated, and a great motivator as well. :)_


	16. Angry Sex

_A/N: Sorry, every time I tried to come up with a better title, that's the only one that came to mind. Not very imaginative, but guess what: it's accurate._

_Oh, and Sarah uses a Very Bad Word at the end of this chapter. It just seemed appropriate to the mood._

* * *

She wasn't difficult to find, certainly not for the Goblin King; all he had to do was wish himself by her side, and there he was.

Sarah jumped when Jareth materialized in the small bedroom she'd taken refuge in. Her trunk lay at the foot of the bed, the shelf containing her borrowed books set neatly against the wall opposite, next to the plain wooden door that marked the entrance to the room's bathing chamber. She had been standing next to the only chair, and stared back defiantly as he studied her. She was wearing a pair of her blue jeans and a gray sweatshirt bearing the name of her Aboveground university across the chest. On her feet were a pair of heavy socks, and her sneakers sat neatly beside the chair, as if she'd just taken them off.

With exaggerated casualness he leaned one shoulder against the mantelpiece. "So? What was it? Did you overhear me speaking to your little dwarf friend or to my sister?" No sense in playing games, not when so much was at stake. Not when it was obvious that something had set her into this show of defiance.

"Your sister?" Sarah seemed stunned by that revelation, but quickly shook it off, concentrating on the part that really mattered. "What did you do to Hoggle?" she demanded angrily. "I've been looking for him all day!"

"Hogbrains is fine," Jareth replied with a bored sigh, one designed to irritate her. Just as his deliberate misnaming of the wretched dwarf always irritated her.

Both tactics worked; her spine went rigid with fury as he raised one hand and held it, palm up, at face level. "In fact, if you'd like, I'll even release him." With a snap of his fingers a single crystal bubble appeared, floating above his hand. In it a miniature Hoggle kicked doggedly at the crystal's sides, but it appeared to made of sterner stuff than the one Sarah had been trapped in once upon a time.

"Of course I'd like you to release him," Sarah snapped. "Right now!"

"Say the magic words," he said, making his tone as deliberately nasty as possible and waving a finger on his other hand in an "ah-ah-ah" motion.

Sarah ground her teeth together. "I wish you to release Hoggle!" she shouted, stamping her foot with impatience.

With another snap of his fingers the bubble disappeared. "There. As requested. The gardener is free. I've even put him back in his hovel, if that makes you happy."

"Being allowed to go home is the only thing that would make me happy right now," Sarah snapped, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

"Since you had no idea where Hogburr was I'm guessing it was my conversation with my sister you overheard," Jareth said, getting back on topic. "Or at least part of it," he added with a sneer. "If you're going to eavesdrop, the least you could do is listen to the entire conversation before rushing off in a snit and moving things around behind my back."

"I heard enough," Sarah ground out. "Nice to know I was doing exactly what you wanted me to do. What you _manipulated_ me into doing," she corrected, eyes flashing. "Tell me, Jareth, did you really give everyone back home false memories of what happened to me, or were you lying about that, too?"

Stung, he glared back at her. "I never lied to you, Sarah. Anything I've ever told you has been nothing less than the absolute truth."

"Except for the part where you were trying to make me fall in love with you just so you could reject me and kick me out of the Underground forever!" she cried, all the hurt and anger pouring out of her. "A lie of omission is still a lie, you bastard!" She turned her back on him, fighting back tears. God, it hurt so much, she could hardly believe the sense of shock and betrayal she was feeling, even more intense now that he was right in front of her. Right in front of her, and not denying a damned thing.

"Yes, that was my original plan," he replied, his voice cool and remote to her ears. If she'd turned around, however, she might have seen the pain in his eyes as he spoke. "But if you'd bothered to listen to the rest of the conversation, you might have heard something even more interesting."

"I find that really hard to believe," Sarah said, her voice low. Was she fighting tears? Almost he went over to her, to turn her around and find out, but he wasn't ready for that yet. If he touched her, there was no knowing how his own growing pain and anger would force him to react.

"My sister said something that gave me pause, made me reevaluate my true motivations in bringing you here." Full disclosure, he'd determined on that, and once made up his mind wasn't nearly as easily changed as he'd once led her to believe. "She told me she believed I was in love with you."

That got her attention; Sarah spun around, a disbelieving expression on her face. "Well," she said after a moment. "I guess your sister doesn't have a clue."

"Actually my sister is generally very perceptive," he disagreed, fighting back the urge to take her by the arms and _shake_ her into believing him. "After thinking about it, I came to the conclusion that she was right, and immediately sought you out to tell you everything."

"You mean you wanted to work some damage control once you realized I'd moved out of your little love nest," Sarah sneered over her shoulder. Her eyes were luminous with unshed tears; he could see them trembling on her eyelashes, just as he could see how hard she fought to keep them from falling. "Sorry, it won't work. Not this time, not ever again." She turned her back on him.

That did it. He knew she'd be hurt and angry; what he hadn't expected was how the same feelings were welling up in his own heart. She hadn't even given him a chance to explain before rushing off and moving herself from their shared rooms. Well, he was still the Goblin King, and she was still under an obligation to him. "Whether it works or not is irrelevant, Sarah," he snarled moving swiftly across the room and spinning her around to face him. "Lest you forget, you gave your word to act as my consort for a year and a day. The last time I looked, that time period had not yet ended."

"You mean my _term of service_?" she asked cuttingly, flinging the hated phrase back into his face. "Sorry, Your Majesty, but you're going to have to get your pound of flesh out of me without my cooperation from now on." She matched him glare for glare. "So just rape me and get it over with!"

"If that's really what you want," Jareth growled, anger once again overriding good sense as he wrenched her toward him, "then have it your way!" He grabbed her by the shoulders, yanking her tight against his body as he slashed his mouth across hers in a hard kiss, forcing her lips open beneath his, invading her mouth with his tongue.

She bit him, hard enough to draw blood; he reared back in shock, putting a disbelieving finger to his bloody lower lip before loosening a low growl and slamming his mouth against hers again, ignoring the pain and the blood, the clack of teeth on teeth and the involuntary grunt of pain that Sarah released.

He slammed her up against the wall, eliciting another grunt from Sarah as her head met stone with an impact that was guaranteed to put stars in front of her eyes, but she showed no other sign of pain as she clawed her fingers and grabbed up a double fistful of his hair.

Instead of yanking his head back, however, she pulled him closer with a feral growl, wrapping one leg around his waist and hooking his body even tighter against her own. "Is this what you want, Jareth?" she hissed against his mouth as he eased up a notch in his surprise. "Then fine, it's what you get." Then she kissed him; this time her tongue was the invader, and if the taste of blood did anything it seemed to arouse her further.

Reason fled down the dark byways of both minds as their hips ground together, as their mouths moved against each other in dark mockery of a kiss. With a quick flick of his fingers their clothing melted away, for once without Jareth deciding in advance where it would materialize, just letting it dissolve into the ether. He hoisted Sarah onto his hips, then carried her to the bed and fell upon her there, lips moving with nips and kisses down her throat to the corner of her neck. He bit down there, hard, and she cried out and convulsed against him, fingernails digging into his back, drawing even more of his own blood, but he was too caught up in the pain and passion of the moment to care.

He thrust into her, meeting no resistance, then felt a startled gasp escape his lips as she pulled him down to her, then rolled them over until she was on top, straddling him, taking over the rhythm of their movements with a savagery that excited him beyond anything he'd ever felt before in his long, long life.

They climaxed at almost the same motion, sweat dripping from their bodies and mingling with the blood from his back and lip. Sarah collapsed atop him, shuddering, then raised herself up and glared down at him. "If that's all you really wanted out of me, Jareth, then that's all you'll ever get. I'll fuck you whenever you like, but you'll never make me love you." Then she pulled herself away from him, padding naked to the room's small bathing chamber, slamming the door shut behind her.


	17. Not Speaking

**oOo**

When Sarah finally emerged from the bathing chamber, she wasn't at all surprised to find it opening into Jareth's bedroom rather than the one she'd moved her belongings to. She glanced back over her shoulder to see the door melt away into nothingness, the handle literally dissolving beneath her fingers, leaving nothing behind but a trail of sparkles and the taste of defeat in her mouth.

Her other trunks, the ones containing her Underground clothes, were exactly where she'd left them. When a quick look around revealed that her other trunk hadn't magically transported into Jareth's chambers with her, she hesitated; wandering around naked wasn't a really good idea under any circumstances, but especially not now. Still, she was too furious to be willing to cave on even so petty a thing as wearing the clothes he'd provided for her.

A quick look at the entrance tapestry confirmed what she'd suspected: the gates and doors were firmly shut. A closer look showed that they now featured heavy padlocks prominently stitched in red and black. "Bastard," Sarah growled under her breath, then padded over to Jareth's oversized bed and crawled under the covers.

If this was all he wanted, to use her body and humiliate her, then fine, that was all he was going to get out of her. He could keep his stupid clothes and precious, neglected library; she was done playing by his rules. Except, of course, for the one rule that guaranteed her an out in nine months: she would continue to allow him the use of her body, she wouldn't even fight him on it.

But he would regret trying to trick her, that much was certain.

**Day 120 (One Month Later)**

Thirty days later, Sarah was going insane with boredom. She'd read all the books left in the rooms at least twice, taken long, lingering baths twice and sometimes even three times a day, spent many hours gazing out the room's single window, napped, and faithfully, after every meal, checked the entrance tapestry to see if the cottage doors and gates ever opened.

She'd almost given up trying. Almost. Sarah was nothing if not stubborn. She kept checking the tapestry and she kept not speaking to Jareth, although she knew she would weaken eventually, social being that she was. And so matters stood at the end of the month following That Day, one hundred and twenty days into her "time of service".

It was dinner time, and Sarah was alone. Jareth no longer took any of his meals with her; the morning tray appeared after he'd left the bed he still made her share with him, although he hadn't so much as laid a finger on her since That Day. The lunch tray appeared on the tufted bench in front of the fireplace as it always had, although Sarah refused to pull the chairs around to where she'd originally placed them, not wanting to leave any personal mark on Jareth's space. The dinner tray appeared there as well, although Jareth never showed up until well after Sarah had crawled back under the covers to sleep.

The one time she'd tried sleeping in a chair she'd woken up to find herself back in the bed, no memory of how she'd gotten there and Jareth apparently asleep beside her and; after that, she ungraciously gave in to the inevitable.

Sarah didn't even blink when the Goblin King shimmered into existence next to the fireplace. She was eating dinner cross-legged on the furry rug in front of it, concentrating on not making a mess of herself. It was another of Chef's attempts at pizza, and although it was quite good he still hadn't gotten a handle on the crust-to-sauce ratio, so it had to be eaten with the fork and knife provided for the salad he'd sent along as well.

"If you promise to behave I'll let you out again."

"Define behave," Sarah said between bites, still not looking at him. Not when he held the height advantage in such an obvious manner. "You mean let you do whatever you want to me? I thought I already agreed to that."

"I meant something along the lines of not eavesdropping on private conversations," Jareth said. He sounded remarkably patient, and Sarah resented every word that came out of his mouth.

So she ignored him, concentrating on scooping up the next mouthful of cheese and sauce and not-quite-right crust. She heard Jareth make an impatient noise, then suddenly the utensils and tray and food vanished into nothingness.

That provoked a reaction; with an indignant "Hey!" she glared up at him. "I was eating that!"

"Yes, I saw you," Jareth replied with a moue of distaste. "It looked quite disgusting."

"Pot, Kettle," Sarah muttered, angry at herself for allowing him to provoke her. Still, what was done was done. So she shrugged and put on the most bored expression she could muster. "Whatever." She rose to her feet, heart pounding as she wondered what he'd do next.

He did nothing, merely watched as she headed for the bathing chamber, the only place she could go to escape his presence, and then only if he didn't bother to follow her.

He hadn't touched her, not sexually, the entire month. She wondered at that, expecting him to be furious with her, expecting him to force himself on her at every opportunity, but he'd done nothing of the sort. So far, in fact, her only punishment (not that she deserved punishment) had been to be isolated in his chambers as she had been when she first arrived.

She heard him sigh behind her as the tapestry swung shut, and counted that as a victory. He would not be joining her in the tub this evening, either. Good.

**oOo**

Jareth clenched his teeth as he scowled after Sarah's retreating form. The situation was intolerable; he let his breath out in a sigh as he admitted that intolerable as it was, he'd brought it on himself. When the _hell_ had he allowed her to gain so much power over him? "The first second I laid eyes on her," he muttered to himself as he disappeared.

He reappeared in his throne room, throwing himself onto the massive stone seat with a defeated sigh. "Lysira was right; I should have just bedded the wench when first she caught my eye, rather than creating so elaborate a situation to enmesh her in. And I should have simply ignored her once she bested me."

"You always were too proud, brother."

Jareth didn't even glance up. "I thought you left."

"I did, but then I came back." Lysira moved gracefully forward, stopping at the foot of the throne. "You are my brother, after all. I thought you could use some advice rather than another admonishment."

"You sound guilty, sister; could it be that you know that Sarah overheard us?" This time Jareth did look at her, a sharp, querying look.

Lysira shrugged, but looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I might have sensed a presence as we spoke. You yourself got up to look," she pointed out. "I presume you saw no one?"

"Only because she'd already fled," he admitted. "So you spoke as you did as much for our invisible audience as you did for me. Thank you so much," he snarled.

Lysira dared to lay a hand on his arm; at the angry look he shot her, she removed it. "Very well, so I sought to provoke. And now I feel as if I did you a disservice. You truly do love her."

"Of course I do," Jareth snapped. "But unfortunately Sarah didn't remain long enough to hear the end of our conversation, and now she feels betrayed and hates me. Ironic, since that was my original goal." He spoke in a disinterested tone, but Lysira recognized the pain he was holding inside.

"Perhaps if I speak to her," she ventured, but Jareth shook his head and glared at her once again.

"Haven't you done enough damage, sister?" he asked in clipped tones. "I appreciate your coming back to admit your wrong-doing, but can manage the situation on my own."

She raised a delicately pointed eyebrow at that. "Really? As you've done so far? Locking her in your chambers and spending your days terrorizing your subjects?"

"I've always spent my days doing that," he said, turning to stare out the small, round window. It showed nothing but clouds, gray and threatening, a perfect counterpart to his mood.

"Sihve says you spoke angrily to him."

That shut him up; Lysira knew how differently he treated the Changed Ones from the rest of the goblins. "I apologized," Jareth pointed out, but she could tell by his tone of voice that she'd gotten through to him this time.

"Nevertheless, you spoke to him as you would to any other goblin; what's next, shall you take your boot to his backside?"

"You've made your point," Jareth growled. "I presume you have suggestions to remedy the situation?"

"Of course I do," she replied, feeling a weight lift from her chest. Jareth was finally listening to her; good. "Tell me all that has transpired in the past month, and I'll see what I can do to fix things up for you and your little human." She paused. "If, of course, you're serious about her."

"Of course I am!" Jareth exploded, jumping up from his throne to glare down at his sister. "More serious about this infuriating female than I've ever been about anything!!"

Lysira hid a smile behind one graceful hand. "I had to ask," she replied mildly. "Now sit back down and tell me. Everything."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the loong delay, but Thanksgiving and inspiration for my Avatar story "In Time of War" interfered. And I know I promised Ludo, but he'll be in the next chapter instead. Lysira just couldn't keep her nose out of her brother's business...and I couldn't resist sneaking her back into the story for at least one more chapter. :)_


	18. Sisterly Advice and Other Interference

**A/N: Sorry, no sex this chapter. But Ludo makes an appearance, as promised!**

* * *

"Sa-wah?"

The unexpected voice brought Sarah instantly to her feet. She looked around wildly, then spotted the upside-down head and shoulders of her friend dangling in front of the window. She rushed over and pulled the heavy frame and glass inward, kneeling on the window seat and staring incredulously into Ludo's eyes. "Ludo? What are you doing out there?" she demanded.

"Miss you, Sa-wah," Ludo said, his eyes bulging slightly. "Come in?"

"Of course!" Sarah glanced around involuntarily, half-expecting Jareth to sense this obviously unpermitted incursion, then tossed her head defiantly and reached for Ludo, hauling on the sides of his head until he slithered into the room with her. She backed up as he tumbled off the window seat; only then did she see the rope attached to his feet. She tugged on the knot around his ankles, then stopped, head cocked, as she realized someone was calling out Ludo's name.

"Ludo, ya stupid git, did jer get inside OK?"

Sarah clambered back up on the window seat, craning her head upwards. Far up on the turret she spotted Hoggle looking down at her, Sir Didymus by his side. "He's fine!" she called up to them.

"Great, then get outer th' way, we're comin' ter join ya!"

Sarah backed hastily out of the way as Hoggle slid down the rope and jumped inside. Moments later he was joined by Sir Didymus, leaving Ambrosios whining anxiously on the tower. "We've arrived, my loyal steed!" the fox-like goblin yelled up. "Await our return with vigilance!"

A single bark echoed downward in response.

"Are you guys crazy?" Sarah demanded, not sure whether to applaud their bravery or scold them for their idiocy. "If Jareth finds you here…"

"He will do nothing, my lady," Didymus exclaimed, pausing in his efforts to free Ludo from the rope. "He hath given his word, and the Goblin King's word is his bond. We shall suffer no punishment for attempting to visit you; was that not the promise you wrested from him before entering into your bargain to free us?"

Sarah thought back, then smiled as she realized that it was indeed part of the deal she'd struck with Jareth; not just freeing her friends from the dungeon, but freeing them from future punishment as well. "Pretty clever," she acknowledged with her first true smile in over a month. The smile faded. "But you guys still took a huge risk coming here; what if the rope didn't hold?" She cast an anxious eye toward the window. "And how the heck are you planning to get back up again?"

"We ain't," Hoggle said smugly. "We aims ter keep ya company till Jareth lets you outta the room." He looked around appreciatively. "Course, as prison's go, this one's pretty nice, if ya ask me. Which you didn't, but I'm just sayin', that's all."

"Tis a gilded cage for our fair lady," Didymus yapped indignantly. "For one who should bear no punishment, any imprisonment is wrong!"

"Yah, and how bout tellin' the Goblin King that?" Hoggle asked with a sly grin. Didymus' ears drooped. "Thought yer wouldn't be too keen on tryin' that."

"None of you should confront him about this," Sarah scolded. "This is my problem, not yours."

"Sa-wah fwiend," Ludo moaned, enfolding her in a massive hug.

She laughed and hugged him back. "Ludo friend," she agreed. "Thanks for doing this, you guys. I've missed you."

Hoggle was making the most of his unauthorized visit by studying every nook and cranny of the sumptuous bedroom. Some of his comments made Sarah laugh and some made her blush, especially when he saw the lewd tapestry hanging at the head of the bed. Didymus pronounced the bathing chamber "exquisite" and promptly shucked his clothes to test it out when Sarah told him about the way she emerged from it completely dry and clean every time, while Ludo simply sat on the floor and held her in his oversized lap.

They were laughing and enjoying themselves immensely when Jareth made his appearance. He seemed taken aback by the presence of the others, who had joined Sarah and Ludo on the floor and were helping her with her lunch, which had appeared just before the Goblin King.

They all froze in the middle of what they were doing, all but Sarah. She met Jareth's disapproving scowl with a tranquil smile. Even he couldn't spoil her good mood, not today.

He vanished as quickly as he appeared, without saying a single word. But when Hoggle returned to his examination of the room's many tapestries, he grunted with surprise. "This 'ere one's changed," he announced, stopping in front of the "entrance" tapestry. "Wasn't there a bunch a' locks an' such on it before?"

Sarah jumped to her feet and rushed over to join him. Eyes wide with surprise, she lifted the edge of the tapestry and saw the wooden door for the first time in over a month. With a joyous laugh she flung her arms around Hoggle and hugged him tightly. "I guess Jareth decided there was no point in keeping me locked up if you guys were gonna find a way in anyway!" she crowed in delight.

Hoggle wriggled his way free of her embrace, hiding his grin of delight behind a scowl. "Yeah, well, jes' glad ter help," he mumbled while Didymus jumped around, yapping with delight and Ludo beamed at them all. The dwarf jerked a thumb at the door. "So, ya wanna go fer a walk, or what?"

"Definitely!"

**oOo**

"How did it go?"

It was a rhetorical question; Lysira could tell by the scowl on her baby brother's face that it hadn't gone well. "Did you let her out?" she asked, unwilling to allow him to continue pacing back and forth and ignoring her. Mostly the latter.

"Yes, I let her out," he replied through clenched teeth. "But not before her friends found a way into my chambers—my chambers!" he added, whirling to face her. "The little ragamuffins were in MY chambers, as comfortable as you please. No goblin has ever dared so much!"

"They dared because they love," Lysira pointed out, unnecessarily she thought.

"They dared because they know I've given my word not to punish them for seeking Sarah's company," Jareth retorted, returning to his agitated pacing. Honestly, Lysira had never seen her brother pace so much in her very long life as he had during this one visit.

"Even so," she said with a wave of her hand. A gilt-edged chair with delicate legs, as out of place in Jareth's pig-sty of a throne room as a tutu on a rat, appeared behind her, and she sank into it gracefully. She did everything gracefully; it was as second nature to her as breathing, even when there was no one to appreciate her grace, and Jareth was definitely not in the mood to notice anything except his own agitation. "They would not have bothered with such defiance were it not for the love they obviously bear for the girl."

"The girl has a name," Jareth snapped, finally ending his pacing as he threw himself into his throne with a scowl. "It's Sarah."

"Very well, then, Sarah," Lysira said obligingly. "They would never have dared so much did they not love Sarah. You know it well, your vanity is simply piqued that they love her more than you."

"I do not require that my goblins love me." Jareth turned another glare on his sister. "Only that they obey."

"There will be no problem once you have convinced the girl…sorry, Sarah…that you are worth loving as much as they are," Lysira countered. She didn't bother reminding Jareth that his Changed Ones loved him, nor did she point out that it was obvious to her that the rebellious trio—quartet if she counted the dog, and indeed she did—had done more than hurt his pride by their loyalty to the human girl. Sarah. He may not require his goblins to love him, but it came as a shock to him when they didn't.

"So I take it you haven't done any of the other things I recommended?" Lysira decided the best thing to do was return to the topic at hand. Her brother would have to decipher his feelings for his goblins on his own; she was here only to help reunite the lovers.

"It seemed anticlimactic after appearing in my chambers to find her laughing and enjoying herself," Jareth replied gloomily. Clasping his hands together on his chest, he seemed to shrink into himself somewhat. "But I'll take your recommendations under consideration for the future, never fear."

_He's giving up,_ Lysira realized with a start. She recognized her brother's mood now as not just anger and disappointment, but resignation. After only four months, with another eight months left before he had to return Sarah to her Aboveground home, he'd convinced himself it was too late to change things_. Not if I have anything to say about it,_ Lysira resolved.

She stood up, the chair vanishing into the ether as she did so. "Very well, I've done all I can," she announced. "Unless you would like me to stay?"

Jareth shook his head. "Although your company has been scintillating as always, dear sister, I believe I can handle the situation on my own from now on. Please pass along my greetings to our parents."

She bowed her head. "I will do so when next I see them." It was a sign of just how involved he was in his own misery that he didn't catch her out on the fine point of what she'd just said. "Good bye."

She vanished, heading not for the Fae Court as Jareth assumed, but to find his little bed-mate and talk some sense into the girl. Having a love-sick Fae pining after her was a great honor, and she needed to understand exactly what she was giving up by being so stubborn.


	19. Eyes To See With

**oOo**

"You! Mortal! Come with me!"

Sarah stared open-mouthed at the speaker of those imperious words. It was the red-head from Jareth's throne room, the woman he claimed was his sister.

She had appeared out of nowhere, not in a shower of sparks or sparkles, with no noise or fanfare whatsoever, simply popping into existence as if she'd always been standing there, not two feet away from where Sarah sat engrossed in a book.

She responded to that imperious command by wedging herself more comfortably in her seat, clutching the book to her chest. "No," she replied, then forced herself to look down at her book, return it to her lap, and start reading again. Or at least offer up the appearance of doing so.

The book vanished from between her fingers; with an exclamation of dismay she glared up at her unwelcome visitor. "I was reading that!"

"And now you are not."

One of Jareth's chairs moved itself across the room at a wave of the red-head's hand, settling directly across from the one Sarah was currently occupying. She sank gracefully into the buttery leather seat cushion, then leaned forward and placed her hand on her chin, studying the mortal sitting across from her. "I must admit, you are not what I expected."

Sarah continued to glare at the Fae woman, even though she knew it was having absolutely no effect. Aside, of course, from causing the other woman considerable amusement, judging by the arch of her eyebrows and the slight twitch at the corner of her lips. After a moment, Lysiria spoke again. "To be honest, I don't understand what my brother sees in you."

Sarah's glare deepened. "He sees someone he wants to use and humiliate and then throw away like a used Kleenex," she snapped. "He sees someone who beat him at his own game and who gave his ego a beating at the same time," she continued, her voice rising as she gave vent to the anger and humiliation that burned within her. "Someone he wants nothing from but revenge."

"Amazing how one can look at the same situation and see it so completely and utterly opposite to what is truly happening." Before Sarah could respond, Lysira rose from her chair and held out one hand. "Now. Come with me and see things as they truly are."

Sarah stubbornly stuck to her chair, until suddenly it vanished from beneath her. With a startled "oof" she dropped to the floor, then scrambled back to her feet, ready to give the other woman a piece of her mind, but something in Lysira's eyes stopped her. Instead, she nervously rubbed her hands against her hips, moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, then reached out to accept Lysira's grasp.

The Fae woman's fingers curled around hers, the room vanishing from around them at the same instant. They reappeared in Jareth's throne room, empty for once of its noisy crowd of goblin lackeys; no, when Sarah looked again she realized there was one small form perched on the edge of the lowest step.

She was surprised to see Jareth, elegant, imperious Jareth, the Goblin King, settled on the same step, sprawled backwards, elbows on the step above, smiling at something the little goblin was saying.

They were standing on the opposite side of the room, in plain sight, yet neither Jareth nor the goblin reacted to the appearance of the two women. "We're invisible," Lysira said, before Sarah could ask. "Invisible, inaudible…" she passed her hand through the nearby wall, "and intangible. Also undetectable to magic."

Sarah was impressed in spite of herself. "How did you do that?" she asked, not quite whispering even though it was obvious neither of the room's other occupants even knew they were there.

Lysira gave her an amused glance. "Magic," she replied simply, then turned her gaze back on her brother and his miniature companion. "Now. Watch and learn something about my brother that may surprise you."

"Nothing about Jareth could surprise me," Sarah muttered, but she, too turned her gaze on the little tableau before them, studying the two figures, wondering what new information about Jareth could possibly be gleaned from his relationship with one of his creepy little minions.

The trouble was, the little guy was actually kind of cute, and Jareth showed no signs of impatience with the feather-haired figure, and no desire to kick it or otherwise abuse it. He threw his head back and laughed at something the goblin said, its whispery voice hard to hear from across the room.

As if wafted along by her thoughts, suddenly she and Lysira were much closer, almost within touching distance of the two seated figures. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the smirk stretching across the Fae woman's lips, a smirk that made her much more closely resemble her sibling. Sarah ignored that smirk, instead concentrating on Jareth and the goblin. It was one she didn't recognize, not that she imagined she'd seen every goblin in the castle, let alone every one in the realm, but the easy familiarity between them was a bit…disconcerting.

"Now, Sihve, you know that's not true," Jareth was saying, although a broad grin still stretched across his face. Not a smirk, not a leer, not an evil grin, a genuine smile. That startled Sarah most of all, and she unwillingly conceded that Lysira might have been right about her learning something new about Jareth. Something surprising. "Hoggle may be a terrible Labyrinth Guardian, but he's a true and loyal friend, much to my chagrin."

"But he always acts so mean," the little goblin, Sihve, objected. "I know he's a friend of your Lady, but…"

"But nothing," Jareth said chidingly, reaching out to chuck Sihve under the chin in an almost paternal manner. "You have to learn that how people act and how they feel aren't always the same. I know your own parents made you wary of those who speak in angry tones, but believe me, sometimes a gruff voice hides a tender heart."

Sarah's eyebrows almost crawled into her hair as she listened, open mouthed, to Jareth speaking in such a loving, understanding manner, and about Hoggle of all beings!

Sihve sighed, the feathers on his head quivering at the force of his exhalation. "If you say so, Jareth."

That would have gotten Sarah's attention, if the rest of the conversation hadn't already done so; none of the other goblins ever called the Goblin King by anything other than his name.

Lysira spoke, responding to the sudden stiffening of Sarah's form, the shock in her eyes, the psychic vibes she was giving off, for all the mortal woman knew. "Yes, my brother allows his Changed Ones such familiarity."

"Changed Ones? You mean children he turned into goblins?" Her voice choked with outrage, but it was muted by her growing confusion. She'd shied away from asking Jareth about that during the past four months, not wanting to know how or why such transformations took place. In fact, she realized, she'd spent a lot of time avoiding talking about anything that would break the cloud of euphoria she'd surrounded herself with once she admitted that she'd fallen in love with her dark suitor.

A love, she reminded herself, that he didn't share. No matter what he said, it was nothing but damage control.

"He does love you," Lysira said quietly breaking into Sarah's angry thoughts, her voice quiet, serious, without the edge of mockery that her words had held up to now. "Even when he thought he hated you for besting him. And now that he's admitted as much, he's vulnerable. Your rejection of him wounded him deeply; I've never seen him so troubled by any female. By anyone at all," she amended, placing a finger against her chin thoughtfully.

"He still raped me," Sarah said, her voice tight with anger, with confusion, with a turbulent brew of emotions as potent as any spell. "He still brought me here to humiliate me, to hurt me."

"He did, indeed," Lysira agreed. "But intentions change, Sarah Williams. Emotions change. How do you feel about him now?"

"I don't know," she admitted after a long, silent minute during which even the conversation between Jareth and Sihve fell into a lull.

"Then I've accomplished what I set out to do," Lysira announced, as the room around them dissolved into a rainbow shimmer of colors.

The shimmer resolved itself back into Jareth's chambers. Sarah found herself once again seated on her chair, the book on her lap, the room empty except for herself.

Alone with her thoughts, she stared into the dancing flames of the fireplace for a long, contemplative time.

_A/N: I"m baaack! Miss me? One set of holidays, one quick trip to Washington DC and one car accident later (no one was hurt, thank God), here I am, back in the saddle and ready to entertain everyone one again. Sarah and Jareth are inching back towards each other, but I'm sure you can guess that it'll take more than one encounter with a cuddly Jareth for Sarah to be willing to trust him with her heart again. Tell me what you think so far, por favor!_


	20. Epiphany

**Day 135 (Two Weeks Later)**

It was raining, a cold, heavy rain, clouds blocking not only any sight of the sky but of the distant mountains and lands beyond the bounds of the Labyrinth. Sarah shivered and pulled the window shut, then hurried over to huddle in front of the fire.

It had been raining for four days straight, a phenomenon Sarah might have disliked but paid no real mind to if it wasn't for the fact that everyone kept remarking on how unusual it was. There were muttered comments about portents and omens, comments she would have ignored at home but was forced to consider seriously here in the Underground.

She suspected Jareth had something to do with it, but wasn't sure how. Nor was she in any position to question him on it, since she was still not speaking to him. Nor did he try to initiate conversation with her, even if he wasn't going so far as to ignore her; on the contrary, he remained alert to her presence whenever their paths crossed, but he seemed to be waiting for her to make the first move.

If that was the case, he'd be waiting a long, long time. Even though she couldn't get that overseen moment between him and Sihve off her mind, even though it revealed a side of him she'd never expected to see, it didn't change anything.

It didn't change the fact that he'd forced her into an agreement that went against everything she'd been raised to believe in, that she believed herself; giving up her virginity to save lives was noble in theory, but it sucked in reality, and he hadn't even bothered to apologize for any of it. As far as she was concerned, all he'd done was admit his intentions when forced to, and no amount of cuddly moments with Changed Ones would change her mind about him.

She'd expected him to continue availing himself of her body, but to her surprise he hadn't laid so much as a finger on her since their bout of angry sex after she learned his original intentions toward her. He had, however, returned to sleeping in the same bed, slipping under the covers sometime after she fell asleep and leaving shortly after she awoke in the morning. No matter how early or late, he stayed in the bed until she opened her eyes, and she suspected he spent much of that time studying her.

She hoped she wasn't giving away the confusion that was still skirling through her mind and body, that all he saw was the hostility she deliberately projected whenever their eyes met, but somehow she suspected he saw right through her. As he always had.

She was allowed free reign of the castle once again, and spent much of her time searching for her vanished trunk of Aboveground clothing. It was a futile search, and she knew it, but it gave her something to do that was wholly her own, that required no favors or condescension from the Goblin King.

She avoided the library most of all, because it was there that she'd begun to feel useful, wanted, all the things Jareth wanted her to feel. Even if he had changed his mind, as his now-vanished sister insisted, it didn't change what he'd started out to do. So she wanted nothing to do with anything he'd encouraged her to do, even if she'd loved doing it.

Once again the scene in the throne room rose to the forefront of her mind. She'd always assumed the children who'd been turned into goblins were treated the same as the other goblins, the "natural" ones, but she could see the difference now that she was actively searching for it.

It still puzzled her, until she had a sudden insight. She turned the thought over and over in her mind as she absorbed the warmth of the fire and half-listened to the rain splattering against the window panes.

The insight didn't just apply to Jareth's treatment of the goblins and the Changed Ones; it applied to herself as well.

Simply put, Jareth wasn't human.

She knew that, had always known it, but she'd been treating him as if he were. As if he were nothing but a human with some extra abilities.

She drew her knees up to her chest, encircling them with her arms as she stared blindly into the flames. Jareth wasn't human. Jareth didn't play by human rules, didn't live by human rules. He was arbitrary, capricious, whimsical. Just like her studies told her the Fae were.

Oh, they had rules, fairly strict ones if the literature could be taken at face value, but within those rules were vast loopholes, mostly applying to how they dealt with mortals and underlings.

Like her and the goblins.

Reluctantly she decided she'd better return to the library after all. Somewhere in those dusty tomes lay the answer to the question of exactly what rules the Goblin King was playing by. And even if she were speaking to him, she was in no position to trust his word on anything. Research, something at which she had discovered she excelled, might help her discover if Jareth was even worth believing in the first place, no matter what his sister said.

No matter what he said, either.

* * *

_A/N: A short chapter, but a pivotal one. Enjoy!_


	21. The Right Direction?

**oOo**

Sarah was in the library. Jareth processed that information, an expression of mingled disbelief and hope warring on his face. Fortunately no one was there to see his confusion.

She'd been avoiding the library as she avoided his presence: like both were plague-ridden. If she'd allowed herself to return to the one…but no. There was no point in speculating. No doubt boredom had driven her back to the library, but he knew it would never bring her willingly to his arms. She tolerated his presence in bed at night because he knew she was a creature of her word; if he ever reached out for her, she would allow his touch. Tolerate it, suffer through it, perhaps even allow herself to respond…and that would be it. She would reject him afterwards as soundly as she'd rejected him the last time, in that tiny little hovel of a room she'd tried to claim as her own.

"I've miscalculated," he said aloud, his voice rueful. The words echoed hollowly through the empty room. His study was usually his sanctuary; now, he was driven there not out of a desire for solitude and peace, but out of a desire to avoid Sarah, much as she was avoiding him, and for almost the same reason. Simply put, he couldn't stand being in her presence knowing how completely he'd ruined his chances at happiness.

"Jareth, there you are. Are you still brooding over your mistakes?"

There was no mistaking Lysira's voice, nor would anyone else dare intrude on his solitude. He heard her move closer to the desk, but refused to turn to meet her. Instead, with careful, deliberate motions, he raised his feet to the desk and leaned back in the leather chair. _Go away,_ his body language said.

As expected, his sister ignored his silent request, maneuvering herself within his line of sight, hopping to the edge of the desk and seating herself there. Her gown was less elaborate today, a simple affair of green velvet with silvery fur-edged cuffs and collar, draping artlessly over her shoulders and dipping down the daringly low-cut back. She raised one knee and clasped it with both hands, keeping her gaze trained on her brother until, finally, he relented and glanced over at her. "What is it now, sister?"

"Why haven't you done anything to recapture the heart of your little human?"

Jareth's fist clenched, his features clouded, then smoothed back out as he shrugged and pretended to gaze out the window. "The game has lost its appeal. When her time of service is up, I'll return her as promised and that will be the end of it."

"It's not like you to give up so easily, brother." _That_ got his attention; he scowled at her as she grinned unrepentantly down at him. "Honestly, she bests you once, she finds out about your petty little scheme to humiliate her, and you let _her_ have the last word?" Lysira shook her head slowly, a mocking little smile playing around the edges of her lips. "Tsk. You've been playing this game far longer than she has or ever could, and yet you concede at the first sign of trouble. I'm feeling somewhat ashamed of you right about now."

The scowl deepened. "How I handle this affair is none of yours," he growled, dropping his booted feet to the floor with a "thunk."

"Ah, but you aren't really 'handling' it, are you?" Lysira's smile turned roguish as she waggled a finger at his nose. "You're letting her make all the calls. Shameful."

"I miscalculated," he said, repeating his earlier words, words meant for his ears alone. But, as usual, Lysira couldn't just let things be, even if they were none of her business. No, _especially_ if they were none of her business. He bit back an exasperated sigh; if she insisted on making his situation with Sarah her own, then so be it. "I never realized how deeply she'd gotten under my skin," he admitted. "Foolish of me, but I arrogantly assumed I held the upper hand. I've gotten what I wanted; she hates me. Undoing that could take a lifetime, and I have little more than seven months to make the attempt."

"The Goblin King admits defeat? Impossible," his sister declared, removing herself from the edge of the desk. She stood, hands on hips, challenge in her voice and eyes. "Find a way, Jareth, or you'll spend the rest of your long, lonely life regretting it."

She vanished, leaving Jareth alone once again, but he felt determination stir in his heart. If nothing else, Lysira had brought him out of the funk of self-pity into which he'd fallen. Sarah was his; he was damned if he would give her up without a fight.

He, too, vanished from the room in a shimmer of sparkles. It was time to correct the mistakes he'd made with his mortal consort, and the first correction would be the easiest one of all.

**oOo**

Sarah dragged her way wearily back to Jareth's chambers. She was filthy from combing through endless volumes on Fae lore and history, books that were kept on the highest shelves and were therefore in the worst state of cleanliness. Fortunately magic seemed to keep the dust and cobwebs that covered them from actually harming the volumes; she'd been worried about dry rot and mildew, only to find the interiors of the books spotless. The one or two bookworms she'd come across were reading rather than eating the volumes, so she left them respectfully to their studies as she began her own.

It was slow going, but she decided not to bring any of the volumes back to the room with her. She would restrict her readings to the library. If Jareth wanted to know what she was reading, he could simply pop in on her there, but he'd been leaving her alone and she wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. She needed more time to study up on the world she found herself inhabiting, especially if she was going to be here for, what, over 200 more days.

She stopped short as she entered the bathing chamber. Her trunks were lined neatly against the far wall, but something was different about them…there was an extra trunk, she realized, not quite believing her eyes as she stepped cautiously forward. But the trunk remained, a large one, and with trembling hand she lifted the lid.

There they were, all her Aboveground clothes, underwear and socks, jeans and t-shirts, sweaters, pajamas, bras, even the clothes she'd been wearing the last time she and Jareth…interacted. She found herself blushing furiously at the memory, even as the female center of her sent out an ache of longing that jarred her, unnerved her a bit.

Her clothes were back. Her solitary physical link to home was back, with no fanfare and no explanation. The only question she had was "why", because she darn well knew "who".

With a sudden sense of no longer being alone, she looked up at the wall of mirrors facing her.

There he was, standing by the tapestry-covered entrance, face unreadable as he met her gaze in the reflection. She turned to face him, only to discover that she was alone in the room. Startled, she returned her eyes to the mirror, but he'd vanished from there as well.

Had he ever been there, or had she simply imagined him? She'd seen him appear in mirrors before, but only Aboveground, never here, in his own realm. Was it simply a mind game, meant to keep her off balance?

He'd returned her clothes, and she still didn't understand why. Nothing in her initial readings explained any of what had happened to her since her arrival Underground, except for the initial deal between them. She'd found precedent after precedent in the volume entitled, appropriately enough, "Lawful Dealings With Mortals." However, precedents and examples were all it held, not the rules governing such "Lawful Dealings" or the punishments, if any, that would be inflicted if the deal were broken by either side.

She sat in her dusty blue dress for a long time, puzzling over the situation in which she found herself, until her knees started to complain. Then she repaired to the tub for a long, luxurious soak, leaving the gown and underclothing on the floor in a heap.

At some point the clothes vanished, but she could never be sure when, lost as she was in her own musings. When she finally removed herself from the sunken pool, she hesitated along moment before dressing herself in her favorite pair of jeans, a deep red sweater and the fuzziest pair of socks she could find.

Every time she thought she had a handle on the situation it changed.

She had a lot more research to do, but it felt good to be wearing her own clothes while she did it. She left the bathing chamber without a second glance, humming to herself as she did so.

Watching from within the mirror, Jareth allowed a small, satisfied smile to cross his lips. Then he, too was gone.

* * *

_A/N: Are things looking up for Our Heroine and (Sorta-Kinda) Hero? They'd better be, or this story is going nowhere! :) Thanks for the kind words, and I hope you continue to enjoy._


	22. Book Learning

**The Next Day**

Sarah was exhausted. She'd spent the better part of the morning combing the shelves for anything remotely useful in understanding the Fae better, and the rest of it hunched over the table, poring over as many volumes as she could manage. Things had only started moving faster once she recruited the two bookworms into helping her.

She'd thought herself alone in the room until a kindly voice piped up from out of nowhere: "What are you looking for, dearie?"

Sarah, precariously hanging over the edge of the room's creaky wooden ladder, started and nearly fell. "Who was that?" she demanded, looking around anxiously. She'd thought she was alone today.

"Now you've gone and startled her," a second voice clucked, as tinny and hard to locate as the first, but with a distinctly feminine ring to its scolding tone. "We're sorry, dearie. We thought you knew we were here."

"Look down to your left and over four shelves," the first voice said, sounding contrite. "The Missus is right, we thought you knew we were here."

Ah, there they were, two tiny (or was that oversized?) bookworms, the same ones Sarah had seen reading just yesterday. She made her way down the ladder and knelt on the nearest chair, studying the two insects (goblins?) curiously.

The two creatures each measured about as long as her hand, the first green with bushy yellow eyebrows, the second purple with light pink spots along its back and startlingly long eyelashes. They were gazing at her with sympathetic smiles. "Can we help you find something?" the purple one asked, revealing itself as the one the first one had called "the Missus" by her feminine tones. "The goblins keep this place in an awful mess, but you were doing a wonderful job tidying things up there for a while." Her expression turned curious. "What made you stop?"

Before Sarah could untangle her tongue to answer, the other worm made a disapproving "tching" sound. "Now, Missus, you know things have been happening in other parts of the castle. Leave the young lady in peace." With a harrumph, he returned his attention to Sarah. "Now. What can we help you find?" He waved a tiny arm. "Disorderly or not, the Missus and I know this library back and forth."

"We meant to offer to help you when you were organizing and cleaning, but we got a little too caught up in our own research," the second worm said apologetically.

Sarah hesitated before answering; after all, this was Jareth's castle and everyone in it was his subject, no matter how small. With a mental shrug, she decided to ask. If it were a forbidden subject, they'd no doubt tell her and withdraw their offer of assistance.

"I want to know more about the Fae," she explained. "What makes them tick, their history and laws, anything that'll help me understand them better."

"Of course we can help you with that!" the first one replied. "You're certainly looking in the right section!"

"Any volumes in particular, sir?" Sarah asked politely.

"Oh, 'sir' is it now!" he exclaimed with a small laugh. "It wasn't 'sir' when you thought we were eating the books!" But his tone and expression were kindly, and he readily named a few volumes Sarah might find informative. "But," he added warningly, "don't be disappointed if they don't hold the insights you're hoping for. The Fae don't really want anyone figuring them out, the Goblin King most of all. The love their mysteries, the Fae, isn't that right, Missus?"

The other bookworm nodded vigorously. "Oh yes, they certainly do! It's surprising he has anything on the subject around here at all, but I suppose he's forgotten all about it since the only time he ever sets foot in this room is when he wants a bit of fun with you!"

Sarah blushed; had the bookworms been in the room the time she seduced Jareth into having sex with her on the very table at which she was now sitting? _Never mind,_ she admonished herself. _You're not here to worry about past indiscretions. You're here to learn something about Jareth._

**oOo**

Learn something she did. Hours later she looked up from the book she'd been reading to find the sun setting and the candles in the elaborate chandelier dangling overhead bursting into flame. She had a headache and her shoulders ached and her left leg had gone to sleep, but she'd found at least a glimpse, a sliver of a hint, of what she'd been looking for.

Jareth was not human, nor was his sister, no matter how much they looked it, and her readings only confirmed her realization that not _being_ human meant not _thinking_ like a human.

Or acting like one, for that matter.

Of course nothing came right out and explicitly said as much; it was all a matter of interpretation, reading between the lines. Time and again she found herself struggling to understand exactly what was _meant_ as opposed to what was _said_, because often the two didn't seem to be the same at all. The bookworms had been the ones to point that out to her after her first outraged exclamations had turned into a series of disbelieving snorts and grumbled comments that disturbed them at their own research enough to ask her what was wrong.

"None of it makes any sense!" she'd exclaimed, slamming the book she was looking at shut and shoving it toward the middle of the table. "It's in English but it reads like a bunch of riddles or a translation of a Japanese stereo installation book!"

"Well, first of all, nothing here is written in 'English'," the male bookworm, the one she thought of as "Dearie", said. "It's magic, don't you see, translating the words into something you can understand. But it only works in a very literal sense; you have to work out the meanings behind the words yourself."

"Great," she'd muttered, slumping back in her seat despondently. "So you're saying in order to figure out what makes Jareth tick, I have to try and guess what these books are really saying instead of what they're literally saying?"

Dearie nodded solemnly, the Missus echoing the gesture. Sarah almost threw up her hands and gave up then and there, but the bookworms cajoled her into giving it another try. "You'll see," Dearie encouraged. "It's easier than it sounds. You just have to stop trying so hard to make the words mean what you expect them to mean, and let them tell you what they're really saying themselves."

It made absolutely no sense to Sarah, but she was willing to try just about anything at this point, so she did her best to clear her mind of any preconceptions and just let the words wash over her as she read, putting herself into a light trance state without meaning to.

And it had worked; one moment she was reading gibberish, the next she found herself nodding in agreement with something the unknown author of her current text was saying.

After that, understanding had come in fits and starts; when she concentrated too hard it slipped back into gibberish, and in a flash of enlightenment she realized it was because somehow she understood more with her heart than her head.

Jareth wasn't human. The beings who wrote these words weren't human, they had their own system of laws and rules and complicated family bindings, clan affiliations, tribal and other political and social groups, tangled enough to make even a dedicated genealogist's head spin.

One thing she did come away with; everything Jareth had done to her, from coercing her into coming back to the Underground to forcing himself upon her after she decided to resist his "attentions" was perfectly within his rights. His subjects, Sir Didymus, Ludo, Hoggle, had all gone against his express command, and he had the right to punish them for their disobedience. If he offered someone, herself, the opportunity to release them from that punishment, that was also his right. And once she had given her word to remain as his consort for a year and a day, no matter what his unstated motives in asking her to do so, she was as firmly under his command as any goblin, born or made.

It didn't make it any easier to accept what had happened to her, but it did make her rethink her assumptions. She doubted she'd find it any easier to react to Jareth as anything other than as if he were human, but she decided then and there she would at least make the effort.

Not forgive, not forget, but attempt to understand; that much she could do.

Nodding firmly to herself, shaking her leg to restore circulation, she stood up and bade the bookworms a courteous good night.

"Good night, my lady!" the sang out in chorus as they closed their own books and busied themselves heading for their home, which apparently lay deep in the walls behind a set of shelves.

Sarah waved, then limped out of the room, leaving the untidy pile of books on the table to clean up another time, confident that no goblin would be caught dead straightening up any number of messes in the library. She suspected there was little other insight to be found in the numerous volumes, but you never knew.

Besides, it helped pass the time.

She made her way down the twisting hallways and entered the royal bedchamber, beelining for the bathing chamber. She shed her clothes and quickly immersed herself in the soothing warmth of the sunken tub.

When she finally emerged, dinner was waiting on the tufted bench in front of the fire, as usual. The sight of it made her realize she was starving, but she paused on her way to the fireplace; something was…off. Something was different, and it took her a moment to put her finger on it.

It was the tapestry to the right of the fireplace, she realized; she'd studied them in detail, and it had changed. She walked up to it slowly, then fingered the edge as she examined it closely. Where before it had been a bestiary of fantastic animals and monsters, now it showed a series of open doors, somewhat like the tapestry covering the entrance to the chamber. Intrigued, she pushed it aside, gasping at what she found behind it.


	23. Solar Power

**oOo**

Sarah slowly allowed the tapestry to fall shut behind her as she entered the new room that had magically (of course) attached itself to Jareth's bed chamber. It was light and airy, with a series of large picture windows on three walls bringing in the full brilliance of the setting sun. A small fireplace gave the room a cozy warmth, and the tapestries lining the stone walls between the windows and on the wall behind her were beautiful, richly colored and as expertly woven as anything she'd ever seen. The contents were innocuous woodland scenes with no leering satyrs or half-naked nymphs, just deer and rabbits and trees woven in lush greens and browns and grays and the occasional cardinal perched on a branch to offer a vivid spot of red that seemed designed to draw the eye.

The furnishings were equally beautiful; a day bed covered in a thick green comforter and matching pillows, several bookshelves, all filled with what she suspected would be her favorite reading material, a cushioned footstool in front of the fire, a low table next to that…and her favorite chair from Jareth's chamber, facing the fire with the footstool set comfortably in front of it.

"Do you like it?"

It was Jareth, of course. He was standing in the entrance and Sarah turned to face him, not bothering to school her face into neutrality, allowing her conflicting emotions to show, cautious happiness and just plain caution. "This is for me?"

He nodded, but did not come further into the room. "Yours and yours alone," he confirmed. "No one may enter without your leave, not even myself. And no magic can remove you from it against your will," he added, watching intently for her reaction.

It was immediate, and exactly as he suspected; her eyes narrowed in mistrust. "Not even you can come in here without my permission," she said, obviously not believing it. "Prove it."

He laughed. "One cannot prove a negative, Sarah. All I can do is give you time to see for yourself." He gestured at himself. "Have I come farther than the entrance? No. Nor will I, for I cannot. Not unless you bid me enter yourself."

"And you can't magic me out of here if I don't want to come," she repeated slowly, clearly still not believing him. "Come on, Jareth, why would you do something like that?"

He shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. "Because I can. Consider it compensation for tricking you into becoming my consort and forcing you to stay here against your will." There was a hint of mockery in his voice, laced with what she didn't dare call affection. "Your desire for a space of your own is clear; however," he added, face momentarily darkening, "you may not sleep here. I reserve that prerogative for myself, and it is part of our agreement. You may spend as much time as you like in this room, but the first time you defy me in that area you will find the tapestry covering nothing but a blank wall the next time you try to enter. Nor can any food or drink pass through this portal or be magicked into the room even by those you allow entry."

Sarah gave a sardonic laugh. "Conditions. Of course."

Instead of becoming angry, however, Jareth merely nodded. "Of course. You are here for a specific reason, Sarah, and in no way will I allow you to circumvent that reason. Even for your monthlies," he added, and Sarah felt herself blushing, still young enough to feel that talking about "that time" was off limits. She'd already had three "monthlies" here, each one lasting about four days and no longer and without ever saying a word about it, she'd found supplies in the privacy of the toilet area waiting for her each time. Proper supplies, too, from Aboveground, for which she'd been quietly thankful.

"So I can spend as much time here as I want until bedtime," she clarified. "And if I 'accidentally' fall asleep here, I can kiss this room good-bye the next time I leave it."

Jareth nodded again. "Marvelous. You have a clear understanding of what I'm offering. With no hidden motives or agendas," he added suddenly, fixing his gaze on hers to be sure she understood what he was saying. "I give my word."

Sarah stood, transfixed, as she did, indeed, understand. No lies by omission this time. No secret plans, no manipulation. Simply…a gift. She nodded, and Jareth smiled, a crooked thing that warmed his eyes. Then he was gone, the tapestry falling shut behind him, and Sarah simply stood there for a long while, contemplating her new room and all that it meant to her to have it…and all that it meant for Jareth to create it for her.

**oOo**

She came out when she smelled something delicious wafting in from the main chamber, hesitating a brief moment before allowing the tapestry to fall shut behind her. Almost immediately she turned and opened it again.

"It's still there, Sarah."

She allowed the tapestry to close once more, turning slowly to face Jareth. He was seated by the fire. A small table replaced the usual bench, set for two. After spending the past month eating her meals by herself, it was somewhat startling, but not entirely unexpected after their earlier discussion. She took the seat opposite his and lifted the silver cover from her plate.

The food revealed brought a brief laugh to her lips. Jareth was eating some kind of beef dish with potatoes and what looked like asparagus, but her dish held pizza. Proper pizza, with a proper crust and what looked like the right sauce-to-cheese ratio for the first time ever. She raised the first slice to her lips and took a cautious bite. "Perfect," she mumbled, then eagerly set to finishing all three slices before starting in on the salad that had also been provided.

Apart from that one word, they remained silent during the meal. When Sarah had eaten every bite and finished her glass of water, she sighed and leaned back in her chair, turning her gaze on Jareth for the first time since she took her seat.

"So," she said, then halted, not sure what she wanted to say. She was still angry, but a month had softened that anger somewhat, as had his sister's intervention and the simple courtesy of offering her a room of her own. Yes, it was attached to this room but if he could be taken at his word (_the Fae never directly lie_, her mind whispered, _he gave his word_) then only she could decide who could and could not enter it. That was an amazing concession on his part, even with the conditions he'd imposed.

"So," Jareth repeated, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. Staring at her. "You have something to say to me?"

"I'm not apologizing for anything, if that's what you're after!" Sarah flared up in sudden suspicion.

Jareth sighed, a long-suffering sigh, but his eyes twinkled with suppressed merriment. "I never asked you to," he said. "I merely asked if you had something to say to me. Something besides, 'so'," he added.

"If anyone should apologize it's you," Sarah continued, but in a quieter tone of voice. "But you won't, will you."

So. She was still going to be difficult. He should have expected this; still, he felt a twinge of disappointment. "One thing your readings should have told you, Sarah, is that the Fae never apologize for anything, not verbally." He rose to his feet. "I shall see you later." Then he was gone in the usual shower of sparkles, the dinner plates and table vanishing shortly thereafter.

Sarah spent the remainder of the evening in her new room. Her medieval studies told her such a room was often called a "solar" and the description certainly fit; when the sun was up the room would be almost unbearably bright with all those windows. Experimentation showed that there were curtains that could be raised and lowered, both solid, heavy damask ones that also added a bit of warmth to the room, and sheers that would at least cut down the amount of sunlight if necessary. And the books were, indeed, her favorites, some from here and some from Aboveground. Her own books. Once again Jareth had gone out of her way to do her a favor, even after she already knew his intentions toward her.

"It won't work," she told herself, and knew it for the lie it was. It was already working. He'd admitted everything, and denied that it was his continued intention. _The Fae never directly lie._ That much she understood; they never had to. _The Fae never apologize for anything, not verbally._ None of her readings so far confirmed that, but if the first was true, then the second had to be as well. _Not verbally._

"This room is his apology," she realized with a sense of wonder as she slowly took a seat in the chair. Her chair, now. She put her feet up on the stool and leaned back, contemplating the fire for a long time, lost in thought, until her head nodded on her chest and she drifted into sleep.

**oOo**

Sarah started awake, panic-stricken. How long had she slept? She scrambled out of the chair and rushed for the tapestry-covered entrance. She couldn't have lost the room already, not after just one evening in it!

But no, Jareth wasn't there, which meant it hadn't been as long as she feared. Just to be sure, she reopened the tapestry; the room was still there, although the fire had magically banked itself to a low pile of embers. She headed for the bathing chamber, stopping short as she saw her reflection in the wall of mirrors.

She was a mess. Her hair, neatly braided that morning, lay in tangles around her face; she must have just kept shoving the loose tresses behind her ears and ignoring them all day. There was a smudge of dirt across her nose, her eyes were red, and her clothes were filthy, dust- and cobweb-covered from her time in the library. She'd been so intrigued by the new room and so hungry at dinner that she'd completely lost track of the fact that she looked like a homeless person.

She stripped off her clothes in record time, dropping them to the floor and stepping into the sunken bath, submerging herself completely in the soothing warmth. With an awareness of her appearance also came an awareness of the many aches and twinges in her muscles from hunching over the table, the strain in her neck and the nagging headache behind her eyes. All vanished as soon as she entered the water, and she sighed in contentment as she leaned back to enjoy the soak.

She left the bathing chamber an hour later, dressed in her drabbest and most comfortable sweats and t-shirt. Without so much as a hint from Jareth as to his intentions, she nevertheless knew that he intended to do more that simply sleep by her side tonight. She'd agreed to the terms and was bound by them, but that didn't mean she would just let him have his way. She re-braided her hair and climbed under the covers, hoping to be fast asleep by the time the Goblin King appeared.

No such luck. Before she'd pulled the covers up past her waist he was at her side, scooping her into his arms and planting a gentle kiss on her lips. He was naked, and within seconds, so was she, her clothes magically melted away, no doubt to be found in the morning neatly folded and returned to her trunk of Aboveground clothing.

Sarah didn't fight him, didn't resist, lay passively in his arms, but her heart was beating like a trip-hammer in her chest and she felt the rising heat of her reaction. Jareth deepened the kiss, teasing her lips apart with his tongue, his hands caressing her from neck to waist, one knee between her legs, nudging them apart but without any force, just a gentle insistence she was finding it harder and harder to resist. If he'd been forceful or angry, if he'd gone after he like he had when she moved out of his chambers, she would have found it easy to stir her own anger, but his gentleness kept her from stoking the flames of her residual fury into anything more than the pleasurable tingle of warmth that was spreading over her body.

"This isn't forgiveness," she whispered to him as his lips moved to her neck to plant a line of delicate kisses down the column of her throat to her collarbone and from there to the tops of her breasts. She felt a shiver of desire course over her body and fought it to no avail.

"I know," he whispered back, his eyes shining with a combination of his own desire and good humor. Then he lowered his lips to her breasts and she gasped with pleasure. It had been a month since he'd touched her, and she couldn't believe how much she'd missed that touch. Any sense of anger or resentment melted away as Jareth continued kissing his way down her body and a feeling akin to an electric jolt went through her as his tongue gently delved into the moist cavity at the apex of legs and torso.

He brought her to the verge of ecstasy once, twice, three times, each time easing away at the last second, leaving her almost ready to scream in frustration as he turned his attention to her mid-section, her legs, anywhere but where her body ached for him the most. When she groaned his name he smiled up at her, then returned his attention and tongue to her most heated body part, this time bringing her to the ultimate in physical pleasure, not stopping even as she cried out her release, her fingers entwining themselves desperately in his hair, tangling the silvery blonde locks. When her legs bucked he conceded success and rose above her, plunging into her without hesitation, lowering his body to cover hers, his lips on her neck, her arms around his neck, her hips rising to meet his in urgent rhythm until the unthinkable happened and they climaxed as one, each crying out the other's name as waves of mutual pleasure rolled over them.

* * *

_A/N: I thought our pair was long overdue for a nice bit of youknow. Sorry for the long delays, but I'm juggling four stories at the moment, bit off more than I could chew so I'm trying to alternate chapters as quickly as I can. R&R if you're still enjoying the story._


	24. Friends and Family

**One Week Later (Day 143)**

"Sa-wah?" Ludo peeked his head through the opening to the solar. "Ludo come in?"

Sarah rose to her feet, her book falling forgotten to the floor. "Ludo! Of course you can come in!" When she saw Sir Didymus peeking his head around Ludo's back her welcoming smile widened. "Hey! Come on in, you guys!"

With joyful yips Didymus and his loyal mount bounded into the room, pushing around Ludo to do so. The gentle rock-summoner merely shuffled to the side, still seeming reluctant to push his bulk into Sarah's new room. She walked over and took him by the hand, encouraging him to enter and peeking behind him to see if Hoggle was there. She was disappointed to see no sign of the dwarf, but not really surprised. Since she had begun speaking to Jareth again her friend had been out of sorts, but refused to talk about it. It was all she could do to coax her other friends back since their initial break in, even when they had shared periods of time off. Which didn't happen very often; Jareth made sure of that, something Sarah still resented but wouldn't ask him to change since the very thought of such a thing horrified Hoggle no end.

Even though she'd explained that once invited they were always able to enter her new sitting room, Ludo still hung back in the doorway until she'd expressly given her permission each time. But that was all right; at least they came to visit her, rather than her always having to hunt them down. Jareth had taken to arbitrarily rearranging their schedules, and without saying as much she knew it was to vex her as much as it was to punish the others.

Still, she couldn't work up a strong anger against him. The more she read about the Fae, the more their arbitrary and capricious natures became clear to her. Oh, they had rules, thousands and thousands of rules if not more, but there appeared to be almost as many loopholes as there were rules, especially when it came to dealing with mortals. The fairie-folk had always had reputations of slyness and double-dealing, at least as far as myths and legends Aboveground told it, but she was beginning to understand that it wasn't so much a desire to cheat humans as it was an alien way of viewing the world that caused them to act the way they did.

That alien viewpoint still troubled her, even after a week of research that surpassed anything she'd done during her college coursework or even her personal reading back home, which had been prodigious. It was fascinating and frustrating; every time she thought she had a line on how the Fae reasoned, something in the text caused her to shout in frustration or give herself a headache trying to twist the words into something she, as a mere mortal, could understand.

In other words, it was exactly like trying to understand Jareth himself.

The Goblin King had made love to her every night for a week, sometimes twice and on one memorable occasion three times. Frequent trips to the bathing chamber ensured her body's ability to withstand such treatment, although Jareth continued to show considerable patience and gentleness when he took her in his arms. Well, most of the time; Sarah felt a blush spreading over her cheeks as she remembered the three-timer and how her nails had raked bloody lines down Jareth's back the third and certainly most passionate time.

"What brings such becoming color to your cheeks, my lady?"

Flustered, Sarah realized she'd been staring dreamily out the window, ignoring her friends while lost in her own thoughts. "It's just the sun, it's very warm in here," she lied, turning and facing Didymus. She sank to her knees and held out her arms for a hug.

**oOo**

"Well, Lysira, I hope you're happy," Jareth murmured to himself as he shamelessly spied on Sarah through the crystal he held in one black-gloved hand. "Because of your prodding I believe I might have actually have found a way to fix this mess I've gotten myself into."

"The mess where your plaything discovered your plan, or the mess where you discovered you've fallen in love with a mortal?"

The imperious tones weren't those of his sister. Jareth snapped his fingers and the crystal vanished as he turned and bowed deeply from the waist in a single fluid motion. "Mother. How kind of you to visit."

She made a "tutting" sound and placed a pair of cool, aristocratic fingers under her son's chin, raising him to face her. "Come, Jareth, surely you expected as much. If you father weren't so busy, he'd be here too. Was that her, in your little bauble? Sarah?"

Jareth's mother was as tall as his sister and appeared nearly the same age, or would to human eyes. Her hair was the same long fall of flame-colored waves, woven through with pearls and other gems, her gown was a soft, silvery white and the crown on her head was a simple matter of a gold band set with an opalite gem found nowhere on Earth.

"Yes, that was Sarah," Jareth admitted, offering his mother his arm. She took it and allowed him to escort her to his throne. With a wave of his free arm the debris in the room vanished, and the furnishings took on a more opulent hue, wood and stone become crystal and gold in the blink of an eye, his hapless Goblins banished to their own holes and cubbies not to return until he summoned them directly. If he hadn't sent them away, they'd no doubt have scampered off on their own, long experience telling them that when the Queen of the Fae visited, they had best keep out of her way. For such a frail looking woman, she had a temper and a voice like a veritable harpy if something irritated her enough. For some reason Jareth couldn't fathom, his goblins tended to irritate her more than almost anything.

She allowed him to escort him to the transformed throne and waved him into a more modest seat to her left. Leaning her elbow on the arm of the throne, she lowered her chin into her palm and gazed at him quizzically. "So? Have you reached a decision?"

Jareth raised a politely inquiring eyebrow. "A decision about what, Mother?"

She "tutted" again and leaned back, resting her head against the soft green cushioning Jareth had provided. "Come, my son, don't play the fool, certainly not with me. Surely your sister informed you it was time for you to take up your duties?"

He deliberately misunderstood her. "I've always performed my duties, Mother, from the moment I was named the Goblin King."

"Jareth!" At the cold fury in her voice he ended the game, bowing his head to acknowledge his acquiescence. "Your father and I need to know if this girl is the one. Do you wish her to be elevated, to make her your queen? Or at least to give you a child," she added impatiently. "Surely you've not been foolish enough to try and repress her body's ability to do so."

"And risk being put to death for the crime of holding back the glorious expansion of our dying race?" Jareth shot back, stung by her words into sarcasm in spite of himself. "Certainly not. If I'm meant to father a child, I will; there's no forcing such things, Mother, and you know that."

Somewhat mollified, she nodded. "I do. But I wonder if your little mortal knows that as well; has she asked you about it?"

Jareth shook his head. "No, I put a small glamour on her when she agreed to be my consort, keeping her from thinking about it."

His mother was about to congratulate him on his forethought when he added: "Of course, I've removed that glamour since she discovered I'd been deceiving her as to my intentions toward her. It won't be long before she does think about it, and then I'll be in for it." He sounded rueful and affectionate, and that tone gave his mother pause.

"You love her," she said after studying him for a long, silent moment. "I'd prefer it was one of our own kind who'd managed to capture your heart, but I can live with an elevated mortal as a daughter-in-law if I have to. If you haven't managed to fall out of love with her after you release her from her service to you, that is. I presume you don't intend to force her to stay, to trick her into remaining after her year-and-a-day has passed?"

He shook his head. "No. I'll leave it up to her."

"And if she does become pregnant during that time?" his mother pressed, leaning forward once more to study her son's mismatched eyes. "What then?"

He shrugged and turned away. "I don't know," he admitted. "I haven't allowed myself to think of the future except when Lysira tried to force me to do so. Then I nearly destroyed any possibility of the future I wanted because I acted too slowly instead of doing what my heart had been trying to tell me all along." He sighed. "Sarah allows me my rights as consort but keeps me at a distance the rest of the time, and I've no idea how I can advance myself as a potential husband when she speaks so much of what her life will be like when she returns Aboveground."

Titania heard the pain in her son's voice and her heart softened toward him. She'd come to his distasteful realm intending to force him into some kind of a decision, only to find that his words, his longing and confusion, touched her. Her relationship with his father had waxed and waned over the millennia, sometimes touching on hatred and sometimes on a passion so intense it both terrified and intoxicated her; that her son would find himself in a similar emotional quagmire, even with a mere mortal, seemed an act of fate rather than chance. She touched his head gently. "You are truly my son," she murmured, then leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Rising to her feet she allowed him to escort her away from the throne. When they reached the center of the room she offered him a second kiss, this time in farewell. "We'll leave you in peace until your year-and-a-day with Sarah has passed; after that, or if she does become with child, your father and I will expect a decision regarding your future."

And she didn't mean his future as the Goblin King, but as the heir to the Fae throne. A future that required the taking of a wife and, hopefully, the fathering of as many children as he could manage. The marriage could be and most likely would be a mere formality, especially if whoever he chose to marry didn't give him an heir quickly enough to satisfy his parents.

Jareth snorted disdainfully. This obsessive desire for children, natural born children and not merely elevated humans to swell their ranks, was endemic to the entire Fae race, the few of them that were left, mere hundreds of thousands when once their kind had numbered in the millions. This obsession ignored the facts: their race was ancient, it was dying, and no amount of magic would keep it going forever. Their future lay in elevating humans and breeding with them, invigorating their race and ultimately creating a new one out of the ashes of the old. He saw that as clearly as if it had been prophesied, but no one wanted to listen, least of all his own parents.

At least they were willing to consider allowing him to elevate Sarah if she truly was his choice for a bride. As for whether Sarah would allow such a thing, well, that was a different matter entirely. And one that would have to be addressed before she took her leave of him.

He frowned, then waved his hand irritably. In an instant the false gilding he'd created for his mother's sake was gone, his throne room restored to its usual, glorious chaos. Goblins once again gamboled and quarreled at his feet, the windows lost their symmetry and pocked the outside wall in rough circles, and he threw himself onto his throne as he brooded over the future he'd been so unwilling to consider before his family decided to involve themselves in his love life.


	25. Flower Child

**Two Weeks Later (Day 157)**

Spring had arrived in the Underground, and Sarah was enchanted by the change outside her window. Flowers seemed to have bloomed overnight, some tall enough to reach even Jareth's tower chamber. She laughed with delight when she pushed open the chamber window and saw enormous pink and red blossoms leaning against the wall. She craned her head and peered downward, sure that they were being magically levitated, but the sight of the towering green stalks disappearing down the side of the tower dissolved that notion. "What are they called?" she asked, turning to face Jareth.

He was still lazing in bed, for once not vanishing as soon as she woke up. She forgot all about being angry with him, at least for the moment, too caught up in the wonder and beauty before her.

"I don't know, you'll have to ask the gardener," he replied with a shrug. Sarah made a face, then turned back to sniff cautiously at the blooms, not wanting a nostril full of foul scent as some of the flowers at ground level could offer to the unwary sniffer.

She was in luck; the flowers smelled as beautiful as they looked. Enchanted, she leaned a little farther forward, then yelped in surprise as she felt a pair of powerful hands grasp her by the waist and haul her back inside. "If you tumble to the ground even my magic couldn't save you," Jareth whispered, his breath warm against her ear and neck and sending a delicious line of shivers down her spine. "Shall I coax them inside for you to enjoy?"

Without waiting for a response he gestured, fingers wiggling in a "come here" gesture. Sarah watched, fascinated, as the flower stalks seemed to stretch until the blooms rested almost in her lap.

Jareth continued to hold her as she buried her head in the armful of blossoms he'd brought into the room, mildly surprised that she hadn't wriggled out of his grasp as soon as she could. He fitted himself more snuggly against her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he felt his body responding to the feel of her buttocks against his hips. Without meaning to, his hands strayed from waist to breasts, cupping them gently, thumbs teasing nipples erect.

She shivered beneath his touch but kept her attention outwardly focused on the blooms in her hands, concentrating as hard as she could on the silken feel of the petals beneath her fingertips and the intoxicating aroma arising from the colorful blooms.

Her determined posture brought another smile to Jareth's lips, and his lips to the nape of her exposed neck. With a quick gesture he melted their nightclothes away, sending them first into the ether and then materializing them at the speed of thought into the bathing chamber.

With that minor distraction disposed of, he plied himself more fully to arousing Sarah, moving lips from neck to shoulder to throat, fingers continuing their gentle massaging motions without the impediment of clothing to diminish their impact on her skin.

And he was having an impact, no doubt about that; she lifted her chin slightly, the thrum of a silent moan vibrating the delicate skin separating insides from outsides, and the tension he felt from every part of her belied the deliberate attempt she was making to strike a casual pose.

Fingers of one hand drifted southward, never leaving her exposed skin, eliciting more shivers as they traveled, smooth stroking motions alternated with swirling fingertips barely touching skin but never leaving it, either. Sooner rather than later he reached his destination, fingers continuing their silent stalking, joined now by the second hand, fingers probing, welcoming dampness encountered and finally, finally, a moan escaping the prison of throat and mouth as Sarah was forced to acknowledge what he was doing and how well, damn him, he was doing it.

Fingers moved at last, smooth stroking motions as Jareth leaned his body forward, molding it ever more tightly against hers, a gradual motion that ended with her on all fours and he above her, raining hot kisses on her shoulders and back as his fingers continued their own back-and-forth motions and her throat continued to surrender moans and soft cries of pleasure.

Just short of the ultimate moment he stopped, easing his fingers free and positioning himself to enter her fully, before her pleasure-befuddled mind could realize what he was up to. As he thrust into her any thoughts of indignation at her pose fled, swept away on wave upon wave of pleasure as he increased his rhythmic movements, hands lightly holding hips as he knelt behind her, taking her to the crest and beyond before allowing himself to reach climax and collapse against her.

Again he used gentle motions to urge her into position, this time downward till she lay with her belly and chest on the soft, welcoming cushions of the window seat and he rested above her and within her, unwilling to allow the moment to simply pass, panting slightly in the aftermath and content to hear her own ragged breathing and rapid heartbeat beneath him.

After a few, contented minutes, she stirred beneath him. "Jareth, I can't breathe," she mumbled, giving lie to her words by her ability to speak them clearly. Still, he eased his hold on her, raised himself slightly but still refused to leave her body completely, pulling her close as he nested on his side, chest to back still, tracing rivulets of sweat with his fingers and feeling her shiver beneath his touch once again, in spite of the satisfaction that they'd both just achieved. "Jareth, stop," she mumbled, but there was no real protest in her words and so he chose to ignore them, instead leaning forward to plant delicate kisses on the nape of her neck once more.

The flowers he'd enticed into the room still lay against the window ledge, some petals crushed beneath them and giving off an even stronger scent than before, a heady perfume that he would forever associate with the afterglow of sex. He heard Sarah inhaling deeply and imagined it would be the same for her, but didn't want to ask and cause her to remember that she was supposed to hate him.

Alas, even his will was never strong enough to bend her to him, not completely, and so he let her go when she abruptly sat up and shifted away from him. He watched though half-lidded eyes as she padded across the room, heading for the bathing chamber. He heard the rustle of the tapestry and waited a languorous moment longer before following her.

He was not yet done with this morning, or with her, and his responsibilities outside these chamber walls could wait a few hours, or longer if he could manage to keep the mood between them as cordial as it had been so far.

He paused on the threshold of the bathing chamber, his anticipatory smile fading as he realized she was in the lavatory. He half-turned to leave when the sound of retching stopped him. He waited until the room became silent, then moved to the edge of the sunken tub and called out. "Sarah? Are you well?"

"No I'm not well," came her irritable response. "I'm puking. How 'well' does that sound?"

"Shall I fetch a healer?" he asked as his heart skipped a beat in anticipation of her response. It couldn't be…

She pushed open the mirrored door and glared at him as she sat huddled on the floor, one arm resting on the edge of the human-style toilet he'd had imported just for her. "You damn well know I don't need a healer," she snarled, eyes flashing angrily. "It's been over a month since my last period, you bastard. I should have known you'd find some way to trick me into staying down here." She stood up and crossed the room until she stood toe-to-toe with him, glaring up at him balefully. "Congratulations, Jareth. You're going to be a daddy." Then she stalked past him and into the main chamber without a backward glance.

Unable and unwilling to follow her, he simply stood there for a long moment, then turned and made his way into the sunken tub. He stayed there for a long time, not thinking, not moving, head leaning back against the gently curved marble edging, absorbing the warmth of the water and the momentous impact of her words.

_"Congratulations, Jareth. You're going to be a daddy."_

His smile was tremulous, and his heart soared with quiet joy.

_"You're going to be a daddy."_

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the looong delay, but I allowed the real world to intrude a bit too much and here we are, almost a month later than I planned, but together at last. Please R&R and let me know what you think. I really wasn't sure if this was the direction I was going to go in this story since that's where I went with my last Sarah/Jareth story ("Mirror Friend, Mirror Foe"), but, well, here we are again in Babyland. Enjoy the ride!


	26. Balance of Power

Sarah was furious, nauseated, terrified. She crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, back to the room at large. He'd done it again, caught her off guard and made her half-believe they could possibly have something between them, and now…this.

A baby. Why hadn't it occurred to her before, during all that unprotected sex, that this might happen? Was she too caught up in her awakening sexuality, too off-balance in this world so different from her own? Until she'd felt the sudden onslaught of nausea and barely made it to the toilet it hadn't occurred to her to worry about the fact that she'd skipped a period. But in conjunction with the early morning queasiness she'd been suffering for the last few days and today's epic bout of puking, it was as if the proverbial light bulb had gone off. _I'm pregnant,_ had been her thought as soon as she finished disgorging her breakfast. Not "I have the flu" or "Something I ate disagreed with me," but "I'm pregnant."

She could be wrong, of course, but even if she was, that didn't mean it couldn't still happen. "It has to be some kind of spell," she muttered, then clamped her lips shut as another wave of nausea twisted its way through her insides and tried to make it to her outsides. She held onto what little remained in her stomach through a combination of stubbornness and will-power; mind over matter, calming fingers soothing her stomach, a pillow clamped between her legs, and slowly, slowly, the nausea subsided.

Her thoughts, however, continued to churn. A spell, it had to be a spell, something to block her from thinking about the possibility of pregnancy, because really, who besides the most naïve teenager had unprotected sex without even thinking about the possible consequences?

"I'm such an idiot," she groaned, feeling tears of self-pity seep from beneath her tightly closed eyes, dampening her lashes and trailing their way down her cheeks. And Jareth would no doubt use this to try and force her to stay in the Underground past her "term of service."

That thought brought her to a sitting position as she frantically calculated exactly how much time she had left versus when the baby was due, if she truly were pregnant and this wasn't (_please God, let it be_) a false alarm.

She hadn't even been in the Underground for six months, and if she was a month pregnant…the baby wouldn't be born until she'd been allowed to return home. She groaned and lay back on the pillow. That is, if there wasn't some obscure Fae law about the terms being voided by her condition; what if she were allowed to leave but not bring the baby with her? Jareth certainly hadn't said anything to the contrary when she'd flung that last accusation at him…

That started an entirely different line of panicky thoughts. Did she really want to go home under these circumstances, either pregnant or with a newborn in her arms? Neither situation fit in with her "been away at college" story. And with the time difference between home and here, would such a story even be possible without magical intervention on Jareth's part? Somehow she doubted he'd be so willing to help her settle back into a normal life either with or without his child along for the ride. No, he'd already said he loved her (_don't think about that, now's _definitely_ not the time_) and implied that he wanted her to stay when he admitted to his first evil little plan to make her fall in love with him and then coldly reject her…

She had to stop, force her mind in check or she'd drive herself crazy speculating about something she wasn't even 100% certain was true. Jareth had mentioned a healer; maybe they could do some kind of magical pregnancy test to confirm her condition…or, with luck, confirm that the only condition she had was one of eating something that was still rumbling her insides, that she'd caught some kind of Underground flu and would recover in a few days, anything but what she'd already assumed to be true.

Ugh. That meant asking Jareth for help, and right now she didn't want to ask him for anything, not even the time of day or the state of the weather. She'd ride this out, see if the symptoms passed or worsened before making a decision. Heck, in a month she'd know for sure if she skipped her period again, but she really wasn't looking forward to a month living in that kind of suspense.

So asking Jareth for help was the lesser of two evils. Next time she saw him, she decided, she'd ask him about that healer he'd mentioned.

**oOo**

"Congratulations, your majesty!"

The healer was a small, round dumpling of a man with pointed ears worthy of Spock from _Star Trek_ and the happiest, most disgustingly cheerful personality Sarah had ever been exposed to either here or back home. It didn't help her mood that he consistently addressed Jareth rather than her, and she was the one being examined, no matter how unconventional (to her mind) an examination it had been.

She hadn't been sure what to expect, but the sprinkling of what she mentally termed "fairy dust" over her body, head to toe, certainly hadn't been it. There were no incantations, no movements of hands aside from dusting off the clinging dust so that the last bit fell on her abdomen, certainly no poking or prodding or saying "ahh" or "does it hurt when I do this" like doctor's appointments back home.

No, it was sprinkle the dust and then stare intently at her for a long minute. After that, the healer's exuberant words…addressed to Jareth. Words that, no matter who they were spoken to, sealed Sarah's fate.

She was definitely pregnant. Great.

She glared at Jareth as she sat up, allowing the golden glitter to fall from her and dust the coverlet of the bed. With a gesture from one black-clad hand, Jareth caused it to vanish before thanking the healer and escorting the man to the chamber door.

When he returned to her side, he regarded her somberly before perching on the edge of the bed. "You're upset."

Sarah continued to glare at him. "What was your first clue?"

"Sarah, I removed the glamour months ago, after I told you of my original plans for you. You've been able to consider this possibility for months now. Perhaps you should ask yourself why you didn't, rather than throwing accusations at me."

"Your sister was talking to you about producing an heir when I overheard you two," Sarah said, biting off the words as if they left a bad taste in her mouth. "Was this part of your plans?"

He regarded her coolly for a long moment before answering. "My plan was to cause you to fall in love with me so I could reject you and return you to a life of misery Aboveground. You've read your fairy tales, your myths and legends, however watered down they are from the truth of the Fae." His voice dripped disdain as he continued. "You know that once a mortal falls in love with one of us they never fully recover from that love, live out the remainder of their pathetic lives pining after what they lost, hovering between two worlds and belonging to neither."

Sarah flinched at the coldness in his voice, his eyes, the words piercing her to the very soul. This was what he'd planned for her, this endless longing misery he wanted to inflict on her, and all because she'd had the bad taste to reject him, to value her baby brother's life and mortality and humanness above what the Goblin King had to offer her. "You wanted to do that me," was all she managed in a half-whisper.

He nodded. "I did, or so I told myself." His eyes, flint-like in their hardness, softened suddenly, unexpectedly as he leaned closer to her, gently taking her chin between thumb and forefinger and forcing her to look directly at him. "But the truth was and ever has been that I love you, Sarah, and the irony is that you still have all the power in our relationship."

"Even though I'm pregnant with your child?" She cursed herself for sounding so uncertain, so lost, but he merely nodded.

"I have no hold over you once your year-and-a-day passes. Children are vital to us, so important in ways no mortal can hope to grasp. And if I had simply chosen to lay with you Aboveground, taken you by force and planted my seed in you without intent, it would be within my rights to claim that child without consideration for you at all."

That was a chilling thought, one she pushed aside to concentrate on the remainder of his words. "But because you were brought here under very specific terms, I can do nothing to stop you from leaving when the time comes, nor can I do anything to claim the child afterwards if you choose to keep it away from me, to live a dreary life Aboveground denying the magic coursing through its veins."

When he put it that way, it sounded as appealing as plate full of worms doused in ketchup, and she told him so, tartly, startling a short bark of laughter from him as he released her face and stood up. "Sarah, the decision will be yours but I beg of you not to make it in haste," he said, all seriousness, no remaining hint of laughter in voice or eyes. "Because this child is half-Fae it will never fit in Aboveground any better than you ever have, less, even."

She opened her mouth to issue a flood of denials, then stopped, wordless, as she recognized the truth in what he was telling her. Damn him for knowing her so well.

He left without another word, leaving Sarah alone with her thoughts.

She realized suddenly that neither of them had broached the possibility of her ending the pregnancy, an option she would have had available to her Aboveground. However, she suspected that, short of throwing herself down a flight of stairs, the option to terminate didn't exist here, especially not if children were as important to the Fae as Jareth said they were, even half-breeds like the one quietly growing inside her.

Well, that was one decision taken out of her hands, but it was a jolt to realize that she had other decisions to make, that she had control of her destiny when she'd been convinced that this pregnancy was Jareth's ticket to forcing her to stay. He could have allowed her to think that, but he hadn't, causing her to consider seriously the idea that he meant what he said: that he loved her and wanted her to stay with him.

But what did _she _want?

That was the problem, the question to be pondered.

She just wished the answer were as clear and simple as she would have assumed it to be five months ago.

* * *

_A/N: I just wanted to thank all my reviewers for sticking with me even though I've kind of dragged this story out longer than I originally planned (darn that stupid real world anyway). More to come as soon as I can get the brain cells working! Thanks, Joelle_


	27. Elevations and Sudden Falls

**Two Weeks Later**

Blech. Another morning commune with the toilet gods, another trip back to lie in misery on the bed she and Jareth shared to recover from that communion, then finally the nausea was gone and she began to feel a little more human, a little more able to deal with life as she currently knew it.

When she'd asked Jareth if there weren't some way to cure her nausea, some magical wave of the hands he could perform to make her feel better, he'd gazed at her as blankly as if she'd spoken to him in some nonsense language from early childhood. "The body does as it needs during pregnancy, to make allowances for the changes to come," he'd responded after a long moment spent studying her and apparently being startled by the fact that she was serious in her request. "No Fae would ever interfere unless the child or mother were in danger of their lives. The nausea will pass."

Great. It was fine for him, all lordly and proud and not suffering any of the changes her own body was going through. All he had to do was sit there on his throne and graciously accept all the congratulations that were raining down on him from goblins and Fae alike.

To be fair, many of those congratulations were sent her way as well, and some were even kindly meant. Jareth's sister had made another appearance "to appraise the situation," as she put it, to note that pregnancy seemed vastly uncomfortable, and to finally, in her usual forthright manner, add that she was pleased for her brother and for Sarah both. "Because, after all, he loves you and I think if you let yourself," Lysira had said, "you might be able to reciprocate, once you get past all your silly mortal hang-ups."

That decidedly modern turn had startled a snort of laughter from Sarah, which in turn had spawned a delicately raised eyebrow on Lysira's perfectly smooth, pale forehead. "My brother isn't the only one to dabble in the mortal world Aboveground," Lysira had said, then wished Sarah luck and vanished as quickly as she arrived, trailing pink and blue sparkles that hovered in the air for a good hour past her leaving.

Pink and blue. Boy and girl. Which one was Sarah carrying now? Apparently fairy magic could be relied upon to determine the baby's sex, but was taboo for some reason no one was willing to explain to her except Hoggle. "Tis because they don't want to hex the babe with their own expectations," he explained. Which in the end was no explanation at all, but Sarah found it fascinating that the Fae had their own superstitions. She wondered if they would undo all knots around her when she gave birth, to ease the labor like ignorant midwives in the Middle Ages, then frowned at the thought. Was she seriously considering being here long enough to give birth?

"…_because you were brought here under very specific terms, I can do nothing to stop you from leaving when the time comes, nor can I do anything to claim the child afterwards if you choose to keep it away from me, to live a dreary life Aboveground denying the magic coursing through its veins."_

Yup, still sounded as appetizing as plateful of ketchup-covered worms and boy that was NOT an image she wanted in her mind right now, not with her stomach's current touchy condition. But honestly, how could she figure this out if she didn't know what to expect from a half-Fae baby?

"Time to find out, Sarah," she told herself as she rolled out of bed and headed for her usual morning soak in the bathing chamber.

From there she dressed herself carefully in some of her Underground finery, for once caring about what people thought about how she looked because she wanted to be taken seriously, to have her questions answered without getting a lot of grief about it.

And, she admitted privately while admiring her reflection in the mirrored wall of the bathing chamber, to show off a bit for Jareth, to remind him how good she looked in the clothes he'd picked out for her. And to wear them before her body started the visible changes that were just around the corner, even if to her critical eyes she looked pretty much the same as she always did.

Once she'd fussed with her hair and gotten it arranged to her satisfaction, she took a deep breath and strode purposefully for the bedroom door, pulling it open and allowing the tapestry to fall back in place behind her as she entered the corridor and made her way to the library.

After all, there might be something in the reference books that she'd missed, and the bookworms were always good company, full of tidbits of advice for dealing with the Fae and helping to fill in some of the gaps in her knowledge when she reached a frustrating dead-end in her research in the past; she wondered why she hadn't thought of talking to them before, consulting them, then put it out of her mind. She'd had plenty to distract her for the past two weeks. Somehow she suspected they'd understand.

**oOo**

"Well, it's a pickly sort of question, now isn't, Missus," the male bookworm mused as he turned to his spouse. Their names, Sarah had discovered, were unpronounceable to her, although they sounded pleasant when the worms obligingly offered them to her, a sort of musical hum with a lot of wobbly notes at the beginning and ending and some growly bits in the middle.

The Missus was nodding vigorously. "Pickly indeed, dearie. For no two half-Fae babes are alike, are they?"

That raised a bell of alarm in Sarah's mind. "What do you mean, no two are alike? They look human, don't they, or mostly human?" Her mind painted vivid pictures of goblin babies born with wicked teeth or tails or scaly hides, but the bookworms put her mind at ease.

"Oh, yes, of course they are," the Missus hastened to assure her. "Some have the ears, you know, the pointy kind, some have the eyes that don't match or are so blue they couldn't possibly be human, and that hair! Oh, the untameable hair most of them have…well, nothing to worry you with. It's their powers that are unpredictable, isn't that right, dearie?"

Dearie, or "The Mister", nodded. "Yes, it is, my pet. You've put your digit right on the heart of it. It's the powers that are unpredictable, especially in the first child a Fae fathers, or mothers, depending on which one it is, of course." He seemed to realize he was babbling a bit and cut himself off with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Sorry, my dear, it's just that the whole Labyrinth's atwitter with your good news. Rumors were starting to spread," he added, lowering his voice confidentially, "as to whether the Goblin King would ever produce an heir." He beamed at her. "And now you've come along and solved that problem for him nicely. He's so fortunate to have found you."

That was a switch; everyone had been telling Sarah how lucky SHE was to have caught Jareth's eye; it was nice to hear someone counting Jareth the fortunate one, someone besides Didymus and Ludo and even Hoggle, of course. Chef being Chef hadn't offered his opinion one way or the other, just grumbled about having to deal with a pecky appetite now that she'd gone and gotten herself knocked up, as if she'd done it solely for the purpose of disrupting his kitchen. She'd giggled at him and accepted his apologetic hug two seconds later; for all his grouchy exterior, Chef, like Hoggle, was a marshmallow on the inside.

"Well, I wasn't exactly jumping at the chance to be Jareth's trophy uterus," was all she said. Met by a pair of equally blank stares, she clarified: "I didn't want to get pregnant. I just wanted to go home."

The Missus and Dearie traded knowing glances. "Of course you did, my pet," the Missus said soothingly. "But since you're going to be staying now, we'll be happy to keep helping you learn more about the Fae. Before you become one of them and all," she added with a slight droop to her antennae. "Once you've been Elevated."

Sarah heard the capital "E" as clearly as if she were reading the words on the page of a book. "Elevated?" she echoed.

"To become one of them, of course," the Missus clarified. "Of course we'll miss you, you'll be much too busy to bother with the likes of us after that, and of course you and Jareth will have to spend a great deal more time at the Fae Court once you're married and the babe is born…"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on!" Sarah interrupted. "What are you talking about? No one's said anything to me about marrying Jareth—especially him! And what's all this about being Elevated?"

The Missus and Dearie offered equally blank stares, then looked at each other. "You mean she doesn't know?" the Missus wondered.

"I suppose she doesn't," Dearie agreed. They turned back to face Sarah. "Perhaps you should do a bit more reading before we say anything more, luv," he offered. "There's a particular book you might want to take a peek at. We never pointed it your way because, well, it never occurred to us, you were so taken with wanting to explore your legal rights and all." At Sarah's blank expression he continued: "It deals with situations where mortals have been Elevated to Fae status."

Sarah felt a bit dizzy. "Elevated to Fae status," she repeated; boy, she was a sparkling conversationalist today. She shook her head to clear it. "Does that mean what I think it means? That I'd be…one of them?" She found it hard to comprehend, but the bookworms were once again nodded in solemn agreement.

"It's not something undertaken lightly," the Missus continued, "but once we knew you were pregnant, well, we just assumed you knew it was the next step, if you stay. After all, Jareth is the heir to the High King, and as the mother of _his_ first heir…"

"His only heir so far," Dearie corrected her. "First and only, a unique set of circumstances. And of course the child was conceived here, in the Underground…Oh, what a scandal it would be if you decided to return home and raise the child there! Of course he or she would eventually make their way here, they always do, but by then…"

"Wait, wait, stop," Sarah pleaded, her head spinning in spite of her attempts to clear it. "Are you saying that even if I decide to leave somehow my kid will end up back here anyway? Even though Jareth said it was my choice?"

"Well, they never linger long Aboveground," Dearie said, somewhat apologetically. "Not enough magic up there to feed their souls, poor things. Most of them find their way back when they're still children…" His voice trailed off as he realized, somewhat belatedly, that he was distressing Sarah further rather than soothing her. "It's not all in the book, of course, but there's enough to help you to understand." He pointed above her head and somewhat to the left. "Up there. The one with the dark blue binding."

Dazed, uncertain, Sarah clambered up the ladder to reach for the indicated volume.

When it happened, it happened so quickly she had no time to react, to think more than "uh oh" as her foot slipped caught on the hem of her trailing gown and off the ladder. Trying to right herself she overbalanced and skidded completely off the ladder while the bookworms called her name in horror and she was falling, falling, then suddenly she wasn't. Suddenly she was in Jareth's arms, where had he come from?

Wherever he'd come from, he was furious, glaring at her even as he cradled her gently in his arms, and then they were gone, leaving the bookworms blinking at the suddenness of it all.


	28. Plans Change

"I'll have them banished, dipped in the Bog of Eternal Stench, their tongues pulled out with hot irons…"

"I'm fine, it's not their fault I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing," Sarah shouted, interrupting Jareth's furious ranting. He was pacing back and forth in front of the bed, wearing a path from window to wall and back again while Sarah sat, nightgown-clad, bundled in blankets, plumped pillows surrounding her like a mountain of marshmallows.

The healer had just left. Not the fussy little jerk who had declared her pregnancy, but a healer Jareth had brought in who specialized in magical pregnancies. A Fae obstetrician, a plump, motherly woman who wore her blonde hair piled in untidy heaps on top of her head and who fussed over Sarah as if she were her own child. "You and the baby are both fine," had been the diagnosis, but she had agreed with Jareth that a few days of rest wouldn't hurt. Then she'd scolded Sarah about taking foolish chances on ladders, patting her hand the entire time as if to show she was only chastising her for Jareth's sake, and Sarah for once didn't feel like talking back.

The healer's name was Amyra and she promised Sarah she'd be available any time she needed to talk to someone about her pregnancy, what to expect, anything she wanted.

When she left Sarah felt much better, at least until Jareth started ranting about punishing the bookworms. Then she put her proverbial foot down, her temper once again rising to meet his. "You leave Dearie and the Missus out of this!" she exclaimed when he paused for breath at the foot of the bed.

That took him aback, enough to silence whatever his next threat might have been. The Goblin King moved closer, perching carefully on the edge of the bed as if his weight might cause Sarah discomfort even with three feet of mattress between the two of them. "You call them that, by pet names? You consider them…friends?"

Sarah nodded, not sure why that was so surprising to him. "Sure, they've been great. They're the ones that helped me when I was…" She stumbled to a stop, uncertain if she should reveal her research efforts to Jareth or not.

"When you were looking into the legalities of our relationship?" he finished for her, but his eyes had cleared and his voice and demeanor were much calmer.

"Yes," Sarah admitted. "And they were just trying to help now." Emboldened by his apparent willingness to talk, she added: "They told me about a book that might help me understand about becoming Elevated, at least I think that's what the book was about." Upon reconsideration, it could just as easily have been about raising a half-Fae baby in the human world, and if Jareth's threats to lock the library against her could be taken seriously, then she might never know.

"Ah," was his less than enlightening response. The frown had returned, but only a ghost of the one he'd worn since whisking her to safety after her fall from the top of the ladder. She'd been so eager to learn something new, she hadn't given a second thought to either her condition or her clothing. So much for dressing to impress.

She'd demanded to know how he got to her so quickly, how he knew she was falling, and his answer had been as mysterious as anything he'd ever said to her: "Because the babe felt your fear, and through it, so did I. Fortunate you are that I was able to act on that fear as quickly as I did, else we'd be having an entirely different conversation." Then he'd placed her gently in the middle of the bed and ordered her to undress while he fetched the healer. Amyra. She'd made careful note of the woman's name and face, intending to forget neither.

"You're not mad at them for telling me about Elevation and half-Fae pregnancies, are you?" Sarah asked when Jareth continued his sphinx-like silence. "Because they were just trying to help me understand, to make the right choice…"

Oops. She hadn't meant to reveal her current indecisiveness to Jareth. Now he knew she wasn't just intending to leave as soon as her year-and-a-day were up…and how many days were left now? Surprised, she realized she hadn't been keeping track the way she usually did. Was that a good sign or a bad one?

A raised eyebrow, a slight smirk, and Sarah's sinking heart told her that Jareth reveled in what she'd inadvertently given away. "At least you admit you have a choice to make," was all he said. "Good." He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. "You'll sleep alone tonight, my dear. No sense in distressing the babe with our usual nighttime antics."

Sarah stuck her tongue at him. "Nice way to put it," she murmured, but her eyelids were drooping and the pile of pillows beneath her head was very, very comfortable and she was very, very tired…

"We'll speak of the possibilities of Elevation and the life our child will have where'er it lives when you awaken," Jareth whispered, pressing another chaste kiss to her forehead. "Sleep and recover from your fright."

"An' the bookworms?" Sarah remembered to mumble, one eye opening to gaze up at Jareth's face.

"Your friends are in no danger from your own lack of good sense," he replied, then vanished with a chuckle as Sarah raised her hand and made a Very Bad Gesture with her middle finger.

**Later**

Sarah yawned and stretched and tried to come to life, rubbing her eyes as she realized how dark the room was. She'd slept clear through the afternoon, but instead of feeling logy and heavy eyed she felt wonderfully refreshed. That coupled with the adrenalin that had been coursing through her system only moments before she fell so suddenly into sleep made her instantly suspicious; had Jareth put some kind of sleep spell on her? She wouldn't put it past him, but felt far too rested to want to pick a fight with him about it. If he tried it again, however, they _would_ have words.

Her attention was distracted when she saw in the flickering torchlight that a small table had been set up in front of the warm glow of the fireplace. It had replaced the tufted bench she usually at her meals from. It was set for two, and Sarah smirked as she realized Jareth was joining her for dinner tonight. _Maybe I'll read him the riot act for the sleep spell after all_, she thought mischievously, the smirk widening to a grin as she realized she was looking forward to the chance to spar verbally with the Goblin King. No matter what else happened between them, she had to admit that she loved needling him. Even under the current circumstances; hell, an unhappily pregnant girl had to find her fun where she could…

Her stomach rumbled, interrupting her thoughts, and she slid to the edge of the bed, slipping into her robe and slippers as she did so. She was so warm and comfortable it was hard to leave the bed but she was darned if she was going to get re-dressed just for one meal. Just one more thing that would bug Jareth no end…

She'd taken her seat and was reaching for the silver cover over her plate when suddenly the table expanded from an intimate circle to a much larger oval, covered with an elaborate gold-edged tablecloth that hung in scallops on every side, half-way to the floor. In the center the simple four-pronged, silver candelabra was replaced with an ornate gold one holding at least a dozen snow-white candles; there was a fancy flower arrangement as well and places set for five.

Eyes wide, Sarah watched as the place settings returned…only now there were five of them on gold-rimmed plates instead of two on plain white, and she scrambled to her feet just in time to see Jareth appear, looking somewhat frazzled. A first for him, at least in Sarah's experience.

"Quickly!" he snapped, gesturing to indicate her night clothes. "My parents and sister are joining us for dinner this evening! You must change…no, there's no time. I'll do it for you," he decreed as she made an abortive move toward the bathing chamber.

Sarah felt a peculiar tingling along every inch of her body from neck to fingers to toes, then gasped as she saw her nightgown and robe transformed into an elaborate velvety dress of deepest crimson. Her hair was moving on her head, and when it stopped, she reached up gingerly to feel the dark tresses that had wound themselves into an elaborate up-do, curled and braided and feeling as heavy as any crown…nope, that _was_ a crown up there, or at least a tiara.

Feeling a bit dizzy from the sudden changes to her clothing and person, she sank back into her seat, only to jump back up when Jareth snapped at her. "No, that's where my father will be sitting tonight. You and I will be here." He indicated the side of the table closest to the fireplace. A single chair opposite must be where his sister was going to sit, and the other end had to be reserved for his mother.

"Why?" Sarah finally thought to ask as she took the chair Jareth indicated. "Why here and not in the dining room?" Then, with a frantic wail: "Why didn't anyone tell me about this sooner?" The idea of seeing Jareth's family, all of them at once, was more than intimidating; she was afraid they were going to try and coerce her into staying and marrying Jareth or giving up her baby when she finally left the Underground.

"Because I was not informed of my family's desire to dine with us until a few minutes ago," Jareth replied, running distracted fingers through his hair, mussing it even more than usual. He was dressed in formal Fae court attire, which he hadn't been when Sarah had seen him earlier. "My father is a man of whims and tonight whim has decreed that he finally meet you."

"Oh." Sarah felt very small and uncertain all of a sudden. He wanted to meet her. The King of the Fae wanted to meet the girl…_no, dammit, I'm a _woman_,_ she corrected herself silently. He wanted to meet the woman who had finally given his son an heir, or was about to anyway. She supposed she should be honored, but all she felt was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do the pregnancy.

"Then I guess I'd better be on my best behavior," she said, before he could warn her to do so.

Jareth's eyes flashed with something like gratitude as he offered her a smile and escorted her to stand behind the chairs he'd indicated. "Thank you," he said softly, leaning down to brush a kiss across her cheek. Then he straightened as a sound of trumpets filled the room, the scent of lilacs, and suddenly they were no longer alone.

* * *

_A/N: As requested: updated sooner than the last time. I'm only juggling three stories right now instead of four so that helps. Let's see what kind of pressure the pater familias intends to put on Sarah now..._


	29. Family Dinner

**oOo**

"Well. Isn't this…homey."

Titania put her hand on her husband's arm. "Oberon. You promised," she murmured.

The High King turned to his wife, blonde eyebrows lifted and leaf-green eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. "What? I was merely commenting on fact that our son has chosen to serve his first formal dinner to present his intended in his sleeping chamber." He turned and bowed toward Sarah. "No doubt due to your delicate condition, my dear." He turned back to his wife and added: "After all, if our son truly wanted to insult us he'd have seated us in that disgusting throne room of his."

Well. Things were off to a grand start, was Sarah's sour thought as Jareth pulled out her chair and seated her before moving smoothly around the table to perform the same service for his mother and then his sister. Lysira hadn't said a word since entering the room, but the look she flashed Sarah as she took her seat was best described as wryly sympathetic.

"Chef certainly sets a nice table," Titania said by way of a conversation starter.

"For a goblin," her husband added blandly, stabbing doubtfully at the meat on his plate. "What are we eating, exactly?"

Sarah's fists clenched beneath the table cloth, and she felt Jareth's warning finger tapping against one knuckle before he, too, picked up his fork and took up a mouthful of the meat du jour. It smelled fantastic, and Sarah couldn't see what anyone could possibly find wrong with any of the food set out before them. "I believe it's a roast, Father. Most likely wild boar, perhaps a bit too gamey for your more refined tastes, but Chef knows it to be one of my favorites," Jareth replied to his father's implied criticism in tones equally as bland as those the High King employed.

Sarah shoved a forkful of meat and potatoes into her mouth before she said something she'd likely regret. Whether she decided to stay in the Underground or not, it wouldn't due to have the High King of the Fae pissed off at her. Just because Jareth couldn't force her into anything didn't mean his father couldn't. "It's delicious," she said, addressing her comment to Jareth as she swallowed the first bite. "Chef's gone above and beyond. I'll be sure to tell him that later."

She was sure that was an approving glance Titania flashed her way, and Lysira was opening grinning behind her napkin as she patted delicately at the corners of her lips. "It is indeed," she agreed. "Such a piquant blend of spices in the gravy, and the potatoes are perfect."

Oberon continued to look doubtful, but he was still eating, not pushing his plate away or demanding something else, so Sarah considered that a win for Chef.

"That's a lovely gown you're wearing this evening," Titania put in with a smile. "That color suits you, my dear."

"Yes, obviously my son has excellent taste," Oberon observed, and Sarah felt her smile stiffening her cheeks. Was the entire dinner going to go this way, with veiled insults and left-handed compliments designed to put her in her mortal place?

Apparently so. Oberon continued: "He's always had excellent taste in both clothing and the women who wear them. You're certainly no exception this time around."

"Sarah is exceptional at any time," Jareth put in smoothly, cutting off the heated reply he obviously sensed Sarah was about to make to his father's nasty little observation. His knee nudged against hers and she nudged back, harder, but kept her mouth shut. "And I doubt she wants to hear about the women in my past." He emphasized the last two words as if to reassure Sarah that she was the only woman he was interested in at the moment.

"Yes, it would make for a rather lengthy conversation," Oberon mused, not at all put out at his son's attempt to redirect the conversation.

"And a boring one," Lysira added, sounding impatient. "Honestly, Father, can't you find some other way to torture us than that?" She turned to her mother. "How was the Hunt Ball? I missed it this year."

"You miss it every year." Oberon sounded annoyed, and Sarah flashed Lysira a grateful look for drawing her father's attention, at least for the moment. She dug into her meal, only half-listening as the High King berated his daughter for joining her brother in dodging her family responsibilities.

"Only the social ones," she corrected him with a hint of a smile on her otherwise grave features.

"More wine?" Jareth interrupted, raising the bottle in one hand and looking around the table. Sarah was drinking water, of course, although she'd read somewhere that a glass of wine now and then during pregnancy wasn't that big a deal. She, however, had no desire to touch the stuff, at least, not usually. Tonight, however, she suspected a stiff belt might help mellow her mood. It had been a relaxing day, and it was a shame it had to be followed by such a stressful night.

She brooded on the inequity of life while Jareth refilled his parents' wine glasses. Lysira declined more, and the conversation thankfully settled into inconsequentials for the rest of the meal.

"So, Sarah," Oberon addressed her after taking the last bite from his now empty plate. She looked over at him politely, but felt her back stiffen. "Congratulations on producing my son's first heir."

"I haven't produced him or her yet, your majesty," she replied, keeping her tone as polite as her smile. "I'm still in the process, so to speak."

"Yes, well, the point is that Jareth has finally fathered a child, even if it's with a mortal, when his mother and I had despaired of him ever doing so. Of course you'll come to our palace to have the babe, you can't possibly depend on goblins to help in childbirth, and clean as this chamber is, we all know my son's tastes run to the more rustic, shall we say. Certainly not an environment in which to raise a child, I'm sure you'll agree."

That did it. Sarah's blood was boiling, and she could no longer contain herself. "As a matter of fact, Your Majesty, I haven't made up my mind whether or not I'll be raising my child in the Underground at all. Or whether I'll even let Jareth be part of its life."

Sarah heard Jareth's slight hiss of indrawn breath, but she was tired of sitting there trading pleasantries with someone who obviously disliked her, disapproved of her, whatever. She wasn't going to just knuckle under to a bully, whether human or Fae, and King Oberon the High and Mighty was obviously a bully. He'd made up his mind about her before ever setting foot in the Goblin King's castle, and she wasn't going to put up with it a second longer. She was tired, even after sleeping the day away, her back ached, and all she wanted to do was sink into a nice, hot tub, crawl into bed, and go back to sleep.

"I see," Oberon responded after a shocked silence. "However, I don't believe you fully understand the situation…"

"Oh, I understand it, all right," Sarah broke in with an impatient twitch of her shoulder. Jareth's hand was there, tightening slightly as he tried to warn her without words to back off, but she wasn't having any of it. "I may not get the mechanics of being Elevated or whatever, and I guess I'd have to live with the idea of my child someday coming back here, but it's my choice, Jareth said so, and no one's going to bully me into staying if I don't want to." She sounded childish even to her own ears, but kept speaking: "If I do decide to stay, and I emphasize the 'if', it'll be because _I_ made that decision, not because someone forced me into it." That was for Jareth as well as his father, and she could tell he got the hint; his hand dropped from her shoulder and his expression turned inscrutable as she faced him. "It's something Jareth and I still have to discuss. Together," she added, softening her tone. Because Jareth deserved to be part of the process, even if the ultimate choice was hers.

His eyes warmed and a smile hovered around the corners of his mouth; good. He got the message. As for his father…She turned back to face Oberon. "So if I end up staying, it'll be because I think it's best for the baby, and not because you've decided it's my duty to be a good little mortal and suck it up whether I like being here or not."

From the corner of her eyes Sarah could tell the others were gazing at Oberon as if judging his reaction to her outburst. It wasn't long in coming; he took a deep breath, then burst out laughing, pounding one hand on the table. "By the Elder Gods, Jareth, you've found a lass with fire in her! Excellent, excellent! My dear," he added, turning to face Sarah, "it's not everyone who's willing to stand up for herself when faced with the Fae, certainly not Fae royalty. Well done. Well done, indeed."

Sarah, who'd been bracing herself for a royal temper tantrum or threats or even spellcasting, could only sit and stare, lips parted in surprise. Titania looked nonplussed and Lysira and Jareth held twin expressions of disbelief on their aristocratic features. "Come, my lady wife, we have held this child back from her rest long enough," Oberon decreed, rising to his feet. "Let us return home. Lysira, join us. We have your own future to discuss now that your brother has taken the first step toward his own."

Sarah rose to her feet automatically with the others, allowing Jareth to escort her to the other side of the table so she could make her good-byes. Lysira pressed a kiss to her cheek and murmured: "You've done splendidly. I've never seen my father so taken with a mortal."

Titania shook her hand and gravely congratulated her on her pregnancy, pointedly not saying anything about the child's future. Oberon shocked Sarah again by bowing low over her hand, pressing it between his own before wishing her a good evening. Then he and the others were gone, leaving her and Jareth alone to process everything that had passed.


	30. Woman On Top

"I guess you're going to yell at me," Sarah said, turning to face the Goblin King, who stood at her side, unspeaking.

Jareth surprised her by leaning down and planting a gentle kiss on her lips. "Even if my father had taken me to task for not keeping you under better control and threatened to disinherit me, I would not have missed this dinner for the world," he said when the kiss ended. "Indeed, I expected your words to raise his ire, but as I said before, my father is a man of whims, and tonight your defiance suited his whimsy quite well. That is not to say," he added in a cautioning tone, "that the next time he will not react more harshly, but I wouldn't worry overly much. You've given him a first impression he'll not quickly forget."

"Good." Sarah was still in a fighting mood, only now it appeared Jareth wasn't going to give her anything to fight about. She sighed and moved with dragging feet toward the bathing chamber. "I'll tell Chef how fabulous dinner was in the morning, but right now that swimming pool you call a bathtub is calling me."

Without looking behind her she swept up the tapestry, reaching around to start tussling with the buttons on the back of her elaborate gown. Curse it, she was going to have to ask for help. She had kicked off her soft slippers and was reaching up to remove her headdress when she felt hands covering hers, gently tugging them back down to her sides. "Let me," Jareth breathed, and she shivered as he nimbly removed the bejeweled pins holding her hair in place, tossing them into the air where they winked into non-existence before Sarah's eyes. The tiara was next, then she felt his hands slide to the back of her gown and start in on the row of tiny buttons that stretched from neck to waist.

She tried to shrug her way out of the dress, but Jareth wouldn't let her do that, either; instead, he reached under the opening in the back, spreading his fingers across her shoulders and sliding the sleeves down to her wrists, tugging them off one at a time and then working the rest of the gown and underclothes off for her while she stood like a mannequin and let him do it. She told herself it was because she was so tired, but to be honest it was nice being pampered like this…not to mention the fact that his gentle touch was raising goose bumps on her exposed skin.

Ever since her pregnancy had been confirmed by the healer, Jareth hadn't touched her, not like this. Oh, he'd kissed her and hugged her to him at night in their shared bed, but he hadn't laid a finger on her otherwise. For a while she'd been grateful, since she felt lousy not only with morning sickness but at random times of the day as well; her breasts were tender to the touch, her back ached, and she was so damned tired all the time! But over the last week or so she'd been feeling better, and she wondered if Jareth sensed that in her.

When she tried to remind herself she was pissed at him, however, even the most stubborn, rational part of her mind threw up its hands in surrender. Being pissed at him had nothing to do with whether or not she wanted to sleep with him, which for whatever reason, she really, really wanted to do. Now. Here.

When she turned to face him, he was as naked as she was, but all he did was escort her into the tub, joining her in leaning back against the rim and just allowing the soothing warmth to spread over them.

Sarah was trying to decide what to do when Jareth spoke again. "You gave me quite a fright today."

"I scared myself, too," she admitted. "No more ladders in long gowns, I promise."

"No more ladders at all," he said firmly, but the kiss he planted on her forehead took much of the sting out of the implied reprimand. "Any books you need will be wafted down to you."

"On Angel's wings?" she quipped.

"On goblin's hands," he corrected her with a smile. "I'll assign someone to assist you, if you like. Perhaps that fox-faced babbler you love so much."

"Didymus? That would be wonderful!" Sarah cried. This had to be another non-apology, although for his father's snide comments at dinner or for his own threats against the bookworms she couldn't say. She turned in his arms, nestling her head against his chest. "Thank you," she whispered, then tilted her face up for another kiss.

The pregnancy was forgotten as their lips met, Sarah deciding to indulge her newly regained interest in sex. When she deepened the kiss, however, Jareth pulled back. "Sarah," he said, his voice husky with restrained desire, "I don't believe this is a good idea in your condition…"

She snorted and shook her head. "_Now_ you want to leave me be? Just because I've got a bun in the oven? No way, mister. You owe me some good old fashioned lovin' after what I had to put up with from your father tonight. The baby will be fine," she coaxed, taking Jareth's hand in hers. Watching his face intently, she took the tip of his middle finger into her mouth and sucked on it, gently at first, then with more force, watching in delight as his expression went from concerned to intrigued to predatory in record time.

In spite of the intensity of his expression, his touch remained gentle as he reached out and stroked her cheek with one hand, plucking his finger free of her grip and offering her finger the same treatment, running his tongue from palm to tip and back again in a series of languorous, suggestive strokes.

Sarah's breath hissed out of her; she never would have believed the palm of her hand to be an erogenous zone, but here she was, with the Goblin King once again defying all her expectations. They were nestled together closely but chastely for all, a situation which she swiftly felt compelled to change. Draping one leg across his lap, meeting up with evidence of his full arousal against her thigh, she rubbed the leg up and down in concert with his tongue, moaning softly when it slipped between two fingers, darting in and out rapidly until she nearly cried out in frustrated need.

That was all Jareth needed to hear. He turned his attention from her hand to the rest of her body, settling a series of butterfly-soft kisses along her neck, down her throat, between her breasts, resting lightly first on one hardened tip and then the other, tongue flicking out between his lips as Sarah gave another strangled moan and reached for his head, twining her fingers in his hair and pulling his face up to meet hers for another kiss, this one far more intense than the earlier ones they'd been sharing.

She ended up on his lap, straddling him, thrusting herself onto his shaft with a cry of relief that quickly became a cry of release, far sooner than she'd expected. He, however, was far from finished with her; as she shuddered against him he began to move her, his hands wrapped around her hips, bringing her body up and down in a smooth motion ably abetted by the buoyancy of the water, plunging in and out of her until she felt another climax approaching.

Then she took over the movement, raising and lowering herself with no need of assistance from him, freeing his hands to toy gently with her breasts even as his breathing turned to pleasurable gasps and groans. His lips pounced greedily, sucking at her already swelling nipples, and tender or not it was just what Sarah wanted, what she needed, and she cried out, calling his name over and over as he joined her in her frenzied rush toward the edge and beyond.

**oOo**

"You're really happy about me being pregnant. You really want this baby," Sarah murmured against his chest later, when they'd reclothed themselves for the night and nestled together in the middle of the oversized bed.

"I do, truly," Jareth replied. "And it was never meant as a trap; you must believe that of me, at least."

"I can believe you capable of anything else, any evil or mischief, but not deliberately setting out to knock me up?" Sarah asked, but her tone was light, and Jareth breathed a faint sigh of relief. It would be a pity if she were ready to pick a fight but he sensed in her a need for information, for understanding, as best she could managed to understand the needs and motivations of the Fae, and he was happy to provide it for her as best he could.

"Children are precious to us, rare gifts that no Fae would ever turn away. Fully Fae, half-human, half-other, it matters not to us. My father has four half-human children," he added. "Three brothers and a sister."

"Why weren't they invited to dinner?" Sarah asked. Of course she'd find something to resent, something to argue about; it was her nature, as it was his nature to be…as he was.

"They do not get on well with my mother," he replied diplomatically. "She would never do harm to them, not of a permanent nature, anyway," he added, secretly enjoying Sarah's wide-eyed look of disbelief. "We value children too much to harm them permanently. Your brother, for example."

"What about Toby?" Sarah asked, moving restlessly in his embrace. He stilled her with a kiss.

"Nothing, sweet. He's fine, he's well. As he would have been had he remained here," he couldn't resist adding. Knowing full well it would rile her, that it would spoil the sweet mood that had stolen over her.

Sarah surprised him by remaining calm. "Really. Being turned into a goblin wouldn't have harmed him," she said in her driest tone. Sounding, he realized with amusement, somewhat like himself.

"Really," he agreed. "I'll introduce you to some of my Changed Ones, if you like."

Sarah bit her tongue to keep from admitting that she'd already witnessed his interaction with one such child. "Aren't the goblins here all 'changed ones'?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Oh, no. Most of the castle goblins, the ones in the Labyrinth, your friends, are all goblins by birth. No, my Changed Ones are special to me; I make sure they have the homes they deserve in the Goblin lands beyond the Labyrinth unless they want to remain in the castle. There are only a few of them here."

"Well, no matter how 'special' they are to you, I can't say I'm sorry I rescued Toby," Sarah said. "He's perfectly happy at home with his mom and our dad."

She fell silent with an abruptness that told Jareth she was brooding once more on what she would no doubt term her "predicament." Her next words confirmed that: "Jareth, be honest. If I decide to leave and raise our child Aboveground, to live as a human, would he or she really be so unhappy? If I promised to give him, her, whatever, a loving home?"

He responded to the earnestness in her voice as well as to the words themselves. "Yes, love, I'm afraid so. History is against such a scheme. Still, I cannot force either of you to stay here, nor will I attempt such a strategy. It must be your own choice."

"Once my year and a day are up," Sarah needled him.

He nodded seriously. "Yes, not a minute sooner. The agreement we made is unbreakable; I cannot release you early, you cannot run away or I would be forced to track you down and return you."

Sarah sighed. "Another Fae rule I don't fully understand?"

He nodded again. "Yes. We stopped short of a blood pact, and neither of us offered what your Aboveground lawmakers might term an 'escape clause.' We are both bound by our words. There would be punishment meted out should we attempt to change things at this late date."

Sarah stirred restlessly in his arms again. "Fine, whatever," she mumbled, and he heard the sleepiness in her voice. "Jareth, I'm tired. I want to know more about these rules I keep ramming my head up against, but not now. Good-night."

With those words she pulled herself from his arms and settled down on her own set of pillows, turning on her right side and facing the far wall as was her usual habit. As was his usual habit, he nestled up against her, one arm protectively lying across her abdomen, and listened as her breathing evened out and she slipped into slumber.

The Fae rules. Oh, she picked the most difficult subjects to question him on. What she asked might never be understood by a mortal, even an Elevated one such as she might become, should she consent to stay with him as his bride.

His bride; he cursed himself under his breath as he realized he hadn't even asked her to marry him yet. But he couldn't do so, not until she fully understood what that would mean for her. He had so many things to explain to her…but at least she was speaking to him, asking questions, allowing him time to answer them. It was far, far better than being shut out of her life.

Pondering the sheer quantity of the information he could provide her with kept his thoughts busy well into the night, but finally he fell asleep, wild blonde locks entangled with deep brown, their breathing synchronized, their heartbeats the same.

* * *

_A/N: If I haven't said it before, thank you to all my readers and especially my reviewers. I know I've tried everyone's patience with the slow pace of my updates, but I hope it's all been worth it. Enjoy!_


	31. Baby, It's You

**One Month Later (Day 202)**

Didymus, Sarah decided as she looked around the masses of books stacked haphazardly on the oversized oak library table, was an enthusiastic if not very tidy assistant. The bookworms had thrown up their tiny arms in despair more than once since he'd been assigned as her ladder-climbing, book-fetching helper.

The problem was, he didn't have the same regard for the books and scrolls Sarah and the two bookworms had, and even after a month of patient coaching, he still tended to throw them onto the table and stuff them back on the shelves with a cavalier attitude that caused a great deal of tooth-grinding from Sarah.

"Forsooth, my lady, they are enchanted tomes, are they not? If centuries of neglect and disuse have not caused them harm, then surely my speedy methods of retrieval and return shall not harm them, either!" had been his explanation when she questioned him just yesterday as to why he refused to listen to her requests to handle the books a little less roughly.

"Tis nothing a goblin of his type can fathom," Dearie had sniffed disdainfully when Sarah sent Didymus away on a made-up errand.

"All bark and no brain, but a good heart," had been the Missus' gentler assessment. "However, you might consider asking Jareth for a different helper. Or at least, another helper," she added, seeing the real distress Sarah felt at the thought of not being able to spend her days in the library with Didymus.

He and the others, Hoggle, Ludo, even Ambrosias, were still under punishment detail; Jareth had explained patiently and on more than one occasion why he couldn't simply let them go back to their own lives now that more than half of Sarah's time in the Underground had passed. He'd explained, she'd listened, and she still didn't get it. Their punishment was tied to her agreement and could not be abrogated no matter how nicely she asked.

The best Jareth could do was allow them more freedom within the castle walls and immediate environs. Hoggle had happily returned to his gardening duties full-time, but Ludo and Didymus were not allowed to return to their homes in the Labyrinth until such time as Sarah's agreement with Jareth was concluded.

"And I thought humans could come up with some convoluted laws," she muttered to herself as she recalled the last time she'd attempted to understand why Jareth couldn't just wave his hand and set her friends free. Not that she wanted them to go; she'd miss them, but they deserved to get their lives back after having sacrificed so much for her already.

All her research was getting her nowhere. The rules the Fae lived by weren't meant to be understood by anyone but them, and she doubted even a Supreme Court Justice could make heads or tails out of some of the texts she'd been attempting to peruse.

The only thing she'd gotten a good grasp of was the concept of Elevation, and even then she wasn't sure how well she understood what it meant. In simplest terms, it meant she'd become one of the Fae, with their immortality and, in a limited way, many of their powers. But her mind would remain human, her personality wouldn't change unless she was one of the many unfortunates who went insane with the influx of magic into their systems.

That had been an unpleasant revelation, and she'd gone to Jareth immediately to confirm her understanding of the situation. "According to this," she tapped the slim volume in her hands with one finger, "I could go bonkers if you Elevate me."

Jareth had nodded gravely. "You could, indeed, face insanity. But I doubt it would affect you in such a way, Sarah. You are far too stubborn to give in to the call of madness; think how well you adapted to the Underground the first time you were here, how you were equal to its challenges and even the many traps and tricks I threw at you in order to slow you down. You faced them all and made friends to assist you in the bargain." He'd flashed her a wide grin. "Madness would cower before your will."

Her stony face must have told him she wasn't fully convinced, for he immediately turned serious, taking her hand in his. "Sarah," he said softly, looking deeply into her brown eyes, "I would never ask you to face something I felt you couldn't handle, in this world or your own. And I know you are a perfect candidate for Elevation, even if you did not carry my heir in your womb to help protect you through the transformation."

"So I have to make up my mind about everything before I leave here?" she'd asked. "I have to decide if I want to be Elevated while I'm still pregnant?"

He nodded confirmation, hesitated, then shrugged. "It would make things much easier on you," he finally said, another quick smile lightening his features. "And on me as well," he admitted.

Now she was back in the library, not searching out anything specific, just because she found it a restful place to be. She picked up a book at random and allowed it to fall open, reading the first sentence her eyes fell on. "After the Elevation ceremony, the Elevated One is given time to become accustomed to their new status. If they are unable to adapt, then their status is altered."

No further explanation followed that sentence, and Sarah jotted down the name of the book and the page in order to question Jareth on it. Altered. Altered how, she wondered as a chill ran up her spine. Returned to their mortal life, killed? Altered could mean a lot of things, especially to the Fae.

She rubbed a hand across her stomach as it growled. She still wasn't showing much, but at least her morning sickness had subsided and her appetite had returned to normal. Well, mostly normal; she had a tendency to crave combinations of sweet and salty foods at odd hours of the night, and Chef had taken to leaving a tray by the bed for her with the Underground version of chocolate-covered pretzels and fruits dipped in various sweet substances that ranged in flavor from more chocolate to butterscotch to something caramel-like in both taste and texture, but an off-putting bright blue in color.

"Lunchtime," she announced, rising to her feet and grabbing her notebook. The bookworms wished her a cheery good-bye, returning to their own research. This week they were looking into weather patterns for some reason she hadn't bothered them about. Their tastes, she'd discovered, were eclectic and varied from week to week and sometimes even day to day. They weren't researching for any reason other than a love of knowledge, and she loved that about them.

She ran into Didymus as she entered the hall leading to the kitchens. "My lady!" he yapped, holding up the cleaning rags she'd sent him after. "I have completed the quest!"

"Thanks," she replied gravely. "Can you just put those on the table? I'm done for the day," she added as she stretched her aching back. "See you tomorrow?"

He yapped in confirmation and she stooped for a quick hug. If she was in luck Ludo would be in the kitchens with Chef, and after lunch and a brief nap she'd head out to the gardens to visit with Hoggle.

It struck her, later in Jareth's bedchamber, that she'd gotten into something of a routine lately. That she wasn't just enduring her time in the Underground, but was actually enjoying it. Sure there'd been some bumps...OK, some _major _bumps, she admitted, thinking of Jareth's deceptions and rough handling of her in the beginning, but now things were going much more smoothly. "I kind of like it here," she admitted aloud.

"I'm delighted to hear you say that," came Jareth's voice from behind her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and turned to see him sprawled on his side, his head resting on one hand, the other reaching for her to pull her closer. She'd given up being surprised by his comings and goings, magical or otherwise, and allowed him to scoot her next to his body. She lowered her head to the pillow and rested with his arm protectively curled around her waist.

"It doesn't mean I'm going to stay forever," she added quickly, and felt his arm tighten for a moment. In anger, or in disappointment? She couldn't tell without seeing his face, and even then he might not show his feelings.

Nevertheless, she craned her neck to study his face. It was blank, neutral; she sighed and lay back down on the pillow. "I'm too tired to fight today, Jareth," she mumbled.

"And I have no desire to fight with you ever again," he replied, but she felt his arm relax as he reached up to stroke her breast with one hand. She was wearing a loose t-shirt and sweats today, admitting defeat in the jeans department; she just couldn't get them fully zipped and snapped anymore. Her breathing deepened and she felt the desire for sleep start to fade as a desire for something else made itself known.

Jareth, for once, was having none of it. "Sleep first, love," he breathed, moving his hand back down to her waist, leaving her feeling vaguely disappointed. "You must not overtax yourself."

"You started it," she grumbled, feeling a rumble of laughter against her back as she obediently closed her eyes, certain she'd never get to sleep now.

She was wrong. Not only did she drift off, but she stayed asleep for well over an hour before stirring, surprised to find that Jareth was still holding her. She glanced over her shoulder to see that he was still sleeping, his breathing deep and even, and started to ease out of his grasp. Apparently she wasn't the only one who needed her rest.

As she moved, however, his grip on her tightened and she subsided, snuggling back against him. "I'm awake now," she murmured, stroking his arm with one hand.

"As am I," he replied, planting a delicate line of kisses along her neck. She shivered, feeling the heat of his arousal against her lower back. He'd maneuvered his other arm beneath her body so that he fully enfolded her, and moved to separate her from her clothing, slowly pulling the t-shirt over her head, unsnapping her bra and sliding it down over her arms. With a deft movement he tangled her wrists in the straps and hauled her hands over her head, flipping her on her back as he did so. He, of course, was already naked, although he'd been fully clothed a moment ago.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her ear. "Allow me to remind you of the pleasures you'll be forgoing should you decide to leave me," he purred, and she squirmed against him, a sudden flush of desire mixed with fear flashing over her. He kept her hands firmly over her head as his lips moved from her ear to her throat, gentle nips alternating with hot kisses and flicks of his tongue. "You are mine, Sarah, and you'll forever be mine even if you leave me and never return."

His voice had roughened with desire, and there was a definite possessive edge to it. "Even if you profess not to love me, even if you spend no more time with me than the sum of our bargained year and a day, you'll always be mine. You'll take no other lovers without thinking of me, marry no one without wondering what being my wife would have been like." His lips moved to her bared breasts and she gasped as he nipped and licked his way from one to the other. Her legs were still firmly pinned beneath his, and he ground his hips into hers, rubbing himself against her through the soft cloth of her sweat pants.

It felt like no barrier at all, and Sarah felt her fear melt away in light of the heat he was arousing in her. He continued to whisper against her body, words of love and longing and fierce possessiveness that made her dizzy. No one had ever wanted her like this, and she could well believe that no one ever would, as Jareth was currently proclaiming.

It dawned on her muddled mind that he'd asked her a question. "What?" she asked, coming out of the fog of desire. He'd pulled her sweats and underpants down with one hand, raising himself from her long enough for her to wiggle the rest of the way out of them. The tip of his manhood rested against her, almost inside, teasingly, achingly close, but he refused to continue his movements, smiling with half-lidded eyes as he watched her flushed face and listened to her gasps of pleasure.

"I said," he repeated patiently, "I want you to marry me, Sarah. I want you stay with me, to allow yourself to be Elevated, to raise our child here with me, and any others we might produce. I want you to be my queen as well as my consort, mother of my children, my wife." With those words he kissed her, a deep kiss that took her breath away as much as his words had. He'd asked her. He'd asked her to marry him, a question she'd wondered about. Before this he'd only asked her to stay with him, to raise their child in the Underground, but now he'd asked her.

She couldn't even begin to order her thoughts enough to do more than make that realization before he finally slid into her, hauling one leg up over his hip as he did so, her hands still frustratingly bound over her head. He supported himself on his free arm as he moved with an insistent, pounding rhythm that she quickly met wrapping both legs around his waist and twisting her arms in a vain attempt to free them. She wanted to hold him against her, to feel the length of his body against hers, and the slight smile on his face as he met her eyes told her he knew what she wanted…and that he wasn't planning on giving it to her.

She cried out in frustration, but that only increased the intensity of his movements against her until she cried out from quite a different reason, waves of pleasure coursing through her and over her until he reached his own climax and shuddered against her. Only then did he release her hands; she quickly untangled herself from the bra, flinging it to the floor as she reached for him, held him tightly against her, feeling his rapid heartbeat against her own. She kissed him, held him, and finally allowed him to pull out of her.

He kept her cradled in his arms even as he rolled onto his side, and she rested her head against his chest as her breathing evened out and her heart slowed to its normal rate. "Did you mean all that, what you said before?" she demanded when she felt in control of her voice.

"Every word," he replied without hesitation, one hand gently stroking her passion-swollen nipples, first one, then the other, in a pattern designed to distract.

She swatted his hand away. "You don't expect me to answer you right now, do you?"

He shook his head and transferred his stroking fingers to her hip and stomach, tracing lovingly the barely discernible bump that was the only outward sign of their child-to-be. "You'll answer me when you're ready. And I will wait for that day as eagerly as I anticipate the birth of my heir."

His heir. Not "our child" or "your baby" but "his heir." There was that possessive streak again. Still, she couldn't find it in her heart to be angry about his choice of words; after all, he'd wanted this baby long before she did, before she reconciled herself to her condition and accepted that no matter where she had it, the baby was going to be born and Jareth was the father.

Her eyes widened as she felt a delicate flutter in her abdomen, as if the baby heard her thoughts and wanted to make its presence known. "Did you feel that?" she breathed, knowing the answer before Jareth spoke. His fingers had stilled, flattening against her mid-section, and he appeared to have stopped breathing.

He planted a kiss on the nape of her neck and pulled her closer, encircling her with his arms. "Our child is reminding us that we've been keeping it from sleeping," he said, but she heard the joy in his voice and knew it would be shining from his eyes if she turned to face him.

She was grinning, unable to stop. Her baby had moved, she'd felt it. Four months pregnant and she was finally understanding why women were willing to go through the months of sickness and tiredness and sore boobs. Her baby had moved. She laughed aloud and put her arms around Jareth's.

Her baby had moved, Jareth had proposed, and she had months to decide about her future. _Today,_ she decided as she closed her eyes, still grinning, _I'm just going to be happy._

_

* * *

_

A/N: Well, I thought I knew where I was going with this but guess what: the story has taken on a life of its own and has dictated to me What Happens Next. And I hope no one figures it out! :)


	32. Love and Marriage?

**One Month Later (Day 232)**

"I have a list," Sarah announced, slapping a piece of paper down on the desk in front of Jareth.

He looked first at the rather grubby piece of paper, then up at his consort's solemn face. "A list?" He frowned, picking the paper up by one corner between elegantly disdainful fingers. "A list of what, pray tell?"

His eyes quickly told him the answer to his question even as Sarah spoke. "A list of questions. Things I need to know before I make any final decisions."

"Will I be able to go back and forth between Aboveground and the Underground?" Jareth read. "Will my baby be able to spend time with his or her human grandparents? Can my family visit me here? Can I tell them about who you really are, can I bring them to live here if they wanted to, could they be Elevated; do the Fae have divorce, and if we were divorced would I be un-Elevated…goodness, Sarah, the list does go on. I shall need some time to process it all."

He didn't, not really, but she seemed so earnest, he wanted her to understand that he was taking her questions just as seriously as she was. All of them, even the ones that he already knew were a resounding "no". However, if he just rattled off answers right now, she'd no doubt accuse him of exactly what he wasn't doing: not taking her seriously.

There was one, however, he determined to answer immediately and honestly. "Do the Fae believe in fidelity the way humans do?"

Sarah was studying his face intently, one hand absently rubbing small circles on her abdomen. She was wearing one of the dresses he'd had made for her, one with a high waist that allowed for her changing body without her having to do much to change the dress itself. It was deep blue, his favorite color on her, and the effect was only slightly marred by the sloppy braid she wore hanging down her back. Obviously the list had taken quite a bit of effort on her part. "Well?" she demanded when he stopped speaking after reading off the, to her, most important question on the list. "Do they?"

She sounded and looked nervous. "Not the way humans do, no," he replied. "But," he added, raising a finger when it looked as if she were about to say something negative, "that doesn't mean we don't have strict rules for marital behavior."

The mutinous look remained in her eyes. "You have half-human siblings," she reminded him. Needlessly; he was certainly aware of all of them, no matter how casually he pretended to regard them. "That means your father cheated on your mother at some point, unless they're from before they were married?"

He shook his head, quashing that faint hope. "No, I am my parents' eldest child. And one of the siblings in question is from one of my mother's affair's d'amour. My sister Elainya. She's about thirty now, give or take a decade."

"So the Fae don't believe in monogamy. So why get married in the first place?"

"I never said the Fae don't believe in monogamy," Jareth chided her. With a wave of his hand a comfortable chair appeared next to his. "Do sit down, Sarah, this conversation looks to continue for quite a while and it isn't good for you or the baby to be on your feet too much."

She sighed but capitulated, exclaiming quietly once she realized he'd brought her her favorite chair from their shared sleeping chamber. He would have brought her the even more comfortable chair from her solar, but he'd vowed not to interfere with that chamber once he'd created it for her, and he'd kept that vow to the letter.

He turned his chair to face hers and leaned forward, taking her hands in his and staring earnestly into her eyes. "Sarah, I want you to understand something about the Fae that I pray will never apply to us. Marriage is as important to all Fae as it is to humans, but as for fidelity…" He sighed. "Once you've been married as long as my parents have, if you have as…volatile…a relationship as theirs often is, then monogamy isn't always the option it once was. Or will be again."

Sarah was staring at him doubtfully. "So sometimes they're faithful and sometimes they're not." She shook her head slowly. "I'm not sure I can accept that. Either you are or you aren't, there can't be any 'sometimes' in there or it isn't a marriage. Not a love match, anyway."

"Love as you think of it is a very human concept, Sarah, one the Fae have embraced but never fully understood. Nor have as many humans understood it as they should," he reminded her. "Tis more of an ideal than a reality in either world. Fae and humans think differently on the matter. I promise to be as faithful to you as you are to me, will that do?"

"That gives us both an out," Sarah objected, frowning at him in disapproval. "Marriage isn't supposed to be about leaving an out, it's supposed to be about promising to love and honor and cherish forever, cleaving only unto one another…"

"Certainly," Jareth agreed, voice and eyes dark with sarcasm. "That's why Aboveground there are no such things as, what's the phrase I want, 'pre-nups.' Because everyone expects to love and cherish their partner unto eternity. That's why there's no divorce, correct? Oh, wait." He snapped his fingers and leaned back in his chair. "There are divorces, aren't there."

Sarah's eyes were clouded with anger. "You know there are," she said through gritted teeth. "My own parents are divorced. And yeah, people sign pre-nups in case something goes wrong, because you're right, things do go wrong. But I believe you go into with the attitude that you'll do your best not to let anything go wrong, that you'll love your partner for as long as you live. Is that really so difficult a concept for the Fae to get? For _you_ to get?" she added in a low voice.

It was a conversation designed for frustrated sighs, and Jareth loosened one as he rubbed elegant fingers over his face and chin. "Sarah, true, romantic 'happily ever after' love is as much a fairy tale Aboveground as it is here, you know that. However, having said that," he added, leaning closer, "I'm willing to try for it if you are."

"Do you really love me?"

That question caught him off guard, but it shouldn't have; the last time the subject had come up had been that disastrous day when she'd been so furious with him for lying to her. "Do _you_ love _me_?" he countered.

An involuntary smile quirked the corners of Sarah's lips. "I asked you first. You said your sister told you you were, and afterwards you kept saying how much you wanted me, that you want me to marry you, but you haven't actually come out and said the words yourself."

"I will speak them when you do," Jareth declared. "And no sooner." To keep her from retorting, he leaned forward and planted a swift kiss on her lips. "As for the rest of your list, I will gather my thoughts on the questions and have answers for you by the end of the day. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," she conceded, looking somewhat dazed. He thought smugly how nice it was that his kisses had that kind of effect on her even in the throes of pregnancy and after such a heated discussion, and had almost decided to kiss her again when she rose abruptly to her feet. "You've certainly given me a lot to think about. I'll see you later."

She kissed him on the cheek and hurried out of the room.

His smug thoughts darkened as he realized it might not have been his kiss that had put that expression on her face as much as the frank answers he'd given to her question about fidelity. Had he, perhaps, answered _too_ frankly? But he didn't want her to accuse him of lying to her, of telling her what she so obviously longed to hear.

She wanted to hear "forever", and although his heart told him the answer was "yes," his head whispered "Forever is a long time when you're virtually immortal." Experience had taught him caution in matters of the heart; even though he'd never felt for any woman, mortal or Fae, the way he felt about Sarah—never loved any woman the way he loved Sarah, curse it—he wasn't sure he could trust such a strong feeling to last as long as he hoped it would.

His frown grew as he thought about how to answer her other questions, and he ignored the jeering voice inside his head that told him he was deliberately focusing on the less important ones because he wasn't sure how to deal with the most important.

"Feelings," he muttered. "Bah." Without any flash or sparkles or special effects, he vanished.


	33. Going Down the List

**oOo**

"Shall we take them in order? Top to bottom, bottom to top, or do you have a preference otherwise?"

Sarah, who'd been sitting with a book in her lap, started, cursed mildly, and dropped it. Before she could reach to pick it up, however, it reappeared in her lap, setting cozily against her knees like a docile housecat. "Don't do that!" she exclaimed, irritated for no good reason. Probably because magic still unsettled her when directed her way, even after living with it for months on end.

Jareth was standing in the doorway to her solar, carefully not intruding so much as an eyelash into her sanctuary, holding the tapestry over his head with one hand. In the other he held her list. The sun was setting, casting the room into deep shadows, turning Sarah into an intriguing silhouette as she rose to her feet and turned to face him. "May I come in?"

If she allowed it, it would be the first time he'd ever set foot into her private sanctuary, and he waited, not quite holding his breath, to see what she'd say. She'd softened to him recently, perhaps even forgiven him for the wrongs he'd done against her both real and imagined, but she still held the ability to surprise him.

Sarah hesitated a long moment before answering with a half-shrug and a nod. "Come on in," she said, settling herself back into her chair and raising her feet to the ottoman. It was animated, a limited movement spell, Jareth had assured her the first time it sent her screaming from the room in a temper. "It put itself under my feet without me telling it to!" had been her outraged yell when he appeared to see what was wrong.

Then she'd burst into laughter at her exaggerated reaction, accepted his explanation that he wanted her not to have to lift anything that heavy in her condition, that it was meant as a convenience…she waved aside his explanation and declared she would call it "Spot," for some ridiculous reason, even though he'd assured her more than once that it had no sentience whatsoever.

When he asked her about this time, she smirked and leaned forward to pat it on the corner. "Because it's always in the right spot when I need it," she told Jareth. Before he could respond, her smirk deepened and she added: "And because it comes when it calls, like a good dog."

Jareth paused in the act of entering the solar; one of the tassels hanging from each corner of the ottoman appeared to have moved, just a little, in a motion reminiscent of a dog wagging its tail. He frowned, decided he hadn't seen what he thought he'd seen, and entered the room, also choosing to ignore her decidedly provocative comment. He refused to read anything more into than her rather snarky sense of humor…this time.

Sarah patted the seat cushion invitingly. "Come on, I won't bite. This lovely chair's big enough for the two of us…I mean, the three of us," she added, and he didn't need to see her clearly to know she was blushing. References to her pregnancy still tended to throw her into somewhat of a tizzy, although she was becoming more and more reconciled to her condition as time passed. More accepting of it, even welcoming at times. And it had all started when she first felt the babe stir in her womb.

As he gingerly sat himself next to her, she snuggled under his arm with a contented sigh. "So. My list. Are you ready to answer all my questions?"

"Asked and unasked," he promised her, dropping a gentle kiss on the top of her head, the only part of her he could comfortably reach with his mouth at the moment. His arm encircled her shoulder and he stroked her cheek as he perused the document she'd given him.

"About what we were talking about earlier," Sarah began, but Jareth cut her off.

"Sarah, it's not a question that can be answered neatly or easily, and I've already done the best I can. Surely that must satisfy you for now?"

"Not a chance," she snapped, wriggling out from under his arm, the better to glare up at him. So much for comfortable amity. "All the rest of the questions are pointless if we can't even agree on the basics."

"Such as whether you love me enough to stay with me or not?" Jareth countered.

As expected, that silenced her, but only for a moment. "Yeah, well, love's complicated," Sarah finally muttered, looking away.

"At least we agree on that much."

The words came out harsher than he'd meant them to, but he couldn't take them back, just as he couldn't take back the wounded expression in her eyes as she rose abruptly to her feet.

"Maybe we should talk about this later," she began, her voice unsteady, but he reached out and snagged her wrist, hauling her back onto the oversized chair before she could take more than a single step away from him.

"No, we'll discuss it now."

Sarah stopped fighting his hold on her wrist, but her expression remained mutinous as she settled down next to him. He draped his arm over her shoulder once again; when she made to shrug it off her tightened his hold. "Sarah, do not fight me on this," he warned her, his voice a soft growl.

His mood had changed from conciliatory to dictatorial in that mercurial way he had, and Sarah subsided at the real threat in his voice. Not a threat to her person, never that and especially not now, but a threat nonetheless. "Now. Your list."

He went down it, question by question, without so much as glancing at the paper he still held in one hand.

"Will you be able to go back and forth between Aboveground and the Underground? Certainly, although not until your year-and-a-day are finally up. Will our baby be able to spend time with his or her human grandparents? Yes. Can my family visit me here? Again, yes." He paused at this point, staring moodily off into the distance before speaking again. "Can you tell them about who I really am? If you bring them here to visit, then they will ascertain it for themselves. But there are conditions if your family is to be made aware of my true nature and that of our child, Sarah. Never doubt that. Conditions that will be dealt with when we reach an…understanding."

He seemed to want something from her at this point, so she nodded to show she understood. "As for bringing them here to live, I would have no difficulty with that should they choose to stay. 'The more the merrier,' as the saying goes. And if it would make your life here more comfortable, then I have no objections. As to whether they would want to stay, that is an entirely different question. Adults have a more difficult time adjusting to the Underground than children, at least, adults who've lived their entire lives in one world with no concept that another exists, as your father and stepmother have."

"My mother's an actress, she's the one I got my sense of wonder from," Sarah interjected. She was feeling somewhat overwhelmed by Jareth's flood of information, but struggled not to show it. "She'd probably love it here."

"Yes, for all of five minutes." Jareth's lip curled in disdain. "I've met many women like your mother, Sarah, and although I hesitate to speak ill of her in your presence, they're all selfish and vain. Would she truly be happy somewhere she wasn't the center of attention, where her child outshone her? Why do you think she visits you so seldom, Sarah?"

"She loves me!" Sarah protested with a glare. This time she struggled in earnest to remove his arm from her shoulder, but it was like fighting the tide, and after a few moments she gave up and slouched sullenly in his hold. "She'd be happy for me. She's just really busy, she has her career to think of…" Her voice trailed off as she realized she was just confirming Jareth's opinion of her mother. "Fine, so maybe Mom and Dad and Karen wouldn't be happy living here. But if I just come and go out of their lives, won't I have to explain things to them?"

"Not at all," Jareth replied. "They already believe you to be in Europe; twould be a simple matter to have them believe you live there and can only visit infrequently."

"Toby's the one I'm really worried about," Sarah admitted. "I love the runt and I don't want to stay out of his life entirely." She sighed. "He was upset enough that I was going away for the semester, let alone…forever."

"Forever is a long time, Sarah. But if you like, we could make arrangements for Toby. I could geas him not to speak of visits with you if you like."

"I don't know," Sarah replied doubtfully, but she relaxed a bit in his hold and the Goblin King repressed a triumphant smile. Good, she was really thinking about this instead of fighting him on it. "But if we could have mirror visits like I have—had—with Ludo and Didymus and Hoggle, then I guess that could work. And regular visits with the family a couple of times a year. How about a telephone?" she asked with sudden eagerness in her voice. "Could you magic one up that works from here to there so I could call them? Then you wouldn't have to do any hoo-doo except for making them believe I fell in love with some glamorous count from Transylvania or something!" Her eyes sparkled with the sudden inspiration, and he gave in to his impulse to kiss her, cradling her in his arms as he did so, savoring the feeling of her response as her body molded itself to his and her lips opened beneath his, inviting him to deepen the kiss.

They were both breathless when they pulled apart again, and Jareth felt an insistent stirring in his loins, a desire to take her right here and now, but held back. First, the list. He'd set himself a task and refused to allow himself to be distracted. However, he was honest enough with himself to admit that it was a good thing there were only a few questions left.

"You asked if your family could be Elevated," he murmured against her cheek, then allowed her to pull back so she could look at him as he spoke. "That question is, sadly, easily answered. No. It is an honor given to a very few; you are a candidate not only because you bear my child but because I am my father's heir and my bride would one day take on the role of Queen of the Fae."

Obviously Sarah hadn't considered anything like that; he watched with concern as her face paled. "Qu-queen of the Fae?" she whispered, disbelief writ clear in her features.

"Of course," he replied matter-of-factly. "What, did you think Goblin Queen was to be your grandest title? When my parents have passed beyond the vale, we shall take our places as their heirs, you and I, and our child will become the new Goblin King. Or Queen, as the case may be."

Sarah was intrigued and a little unsettled at the thought of beings she'd thought of as being immortal dying. "So even the Fae die eventually? They don't just live forever?"

Jareth shook his head. "Nothing lasts forever, love, not even eternity." Before she could even begin to untangle that concept, he went on: "We have no old age, no death as mortals would think of it, no end to our time in this life brought on by illness or senility, but eventually even the most life-loving among us grow weary, ready for a change. And the life beyond death is a challenge no Fae can deny in the end."

Hmm, death as a challenge…there was a concept! But it was one she could more easily accept than some of the other things and ideas she'd been exposed to lately, so she simply nodded to show she understood. Sort of. "I think that covers the basics, then…"

"The Fae do not divorce, Sarah, and once Elevated, you would be Elevated until you chose to cast aside immortality yourself," Jareth said before she could continue the thought.

"Oh. So, even if fidelity is an issue, divorce isn't an option?" He'd sidetracked her again, curse him, but he was right to insist on answering her questions now, to not allow himself to be distracted, and she appreciated his persistence.

"Once wed we shall be husband and wife until we die, and beyond, if the life awaiting after death is anything like what legends tell us," he replied. There was a sound of crumpling, and she watched as he tossed the wad of paper containing her list into the fireplace. One handed. Without looking. Show off.

"You still haven't said you love—mmph!" Jareth silenced her with one of his most passionate kisses, and Sarah decided hazily that it could wait. His hands were busily undoing the buttons on the back of her gown, and her own hands had reached up to unbutton his shirt. He wasn't wearing any vest or jacket, just a simple white shirt, tight black trousers and his signature knee-length black boots. She'd never tried to pull those off, and he gave her no opportunity to do so now, simply allowing them to dissolve into the ether along with the rest of his clothing.

Her dress, however, he seemed determined to remove by hand, and she was more than happy to let him, easing her arms out of the sleeves and raising her hips as he slid the voluminous garment past her hips, down her legs and onto the floor in a blue heap. Undergarments he removed in the more traditional (to him) manner, by vanishing them away with the blink of an eye, along with pesky things like slippers.

The book she'd been clutching dropped to the floor as long fingers slid through the loose braid she wore, ending at the ribbon holding it in place. A gentle tug and the ribbon was gone as well, her hair gloriously free for his fingers to more thoroughly explore even as his lips explored her cheeks, her forehead, the column of her neck and lower.

Sarah moaned and arched her back, pressing her body closer to Jareth's, feeling the familiar flush of desire spread from head to toe, every pore, every hair follicle, tingling in anticipation of what was to follow.

"Oops," said a voice from the doorway. "I seem to have come at a most inopportune time."

* * *

_A/N: Hmm, I wonder who THAT could be? Tune in to find out, folks!_


	34. Woman Trouble

Sarah squeaked in alarm and scrambled to cover herself as Jareth turned and glared at the intruder. He waved his hand almost negligently and Sarah found herself fully clothed, as was he. "To what do I owe this…honor?" Jareth asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "As I recall, Elizabeta, when we last parted it was…not on the best of terms."

Sarah peeked over his shoulder and got a good, long look at the stranger. Her face fell as she realized the woman was (_of course_) a Fae, a Fae from elegantly styled white-blonde hair and luminous leaf-green eyes and elegantly sculpted features to her long, slender body to her even longer legs. Suddenly Sarah felt very, very insecure, and she had no idea what this woman's relationship was or had been to Jareth. But she suspected; oh, yes, she suspected.

The main question was, what the _hell_ was she doing in Sarah's private room? She peevishly asked that question aloud, and Jareth made introductions in tones of exaggerated politeness. "Lady Elizabeta, may I present Sarah Williams. Sarah Williams, the Lady Elizabeta, of my father's court."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Elizabeta put in smoothly. "But I see I've interrupted…something." Her eyes glittered with malicious amusement, and Sarah felt her teeth grinding in response. Only the slight pressure of Jareth's hand on her shoulder kept her from launching herself to her feet and demanding that the other woman leave, _right now,_ and not come back. "If I'd known you'd started a new dalliance, Jareth, I'd never have invaded your private chambers. But the tapestry was new," she shrugged elegantly, "and I _had_ to investigate."

While Sarah seethed at the blatant dismissal of her relationship with Jareth, the Goblin King himself merely inclined his head regally. "You're forgiven, Elizabeta. Perhaps we could continue this conversation at some future date? In my throne room?" His eyes were glittering as well, and Sarah shivered as she thought how glad she was he wasn't pissed off at her this time.

The woman—Elizabeta, _Lady_ Elizabeta—inclined her head gracefully, then disappeared from view—fading away like some gorgeous, seductively-dressed ghost—Sarah turned to Jareth, one eyebrow raised inquiringly, voice deceptively calm. "Well? Who was she?"

Jareth sighed. Loudly. Ran a hand over his face. Straightened his posture. "Do you truly want me to detail the nature of our former relationship? Can you simply be satisfied to hear me say it is in the past, but that she is a powerful member of my father's court and not a woman to be lightly dismissed?"

Sarah shook her head. Slowly. Deliberately. "Not a chance." She'd sized up the other woman, and it wasn't pretty. "She wants you back."

Jareth looked at her with a skeptical scowl. "How could you possibly tell that from a single, admittedly unpleasant, encounter?"

"Call it woman's intuition," Sarah snapped, and just like that they were fighting. "Jareth, she came looking for you in your _bedroom_," she hissed. "What other reason could she have for doing that besides, you know, seduction? And the way she was dressed…" Sarah rolled her eyes. "A long, tight-fitting dress with a low-cut bodice and the way the sleeves were slit so her arms showed from wrists to shoulder? And that little 'Oops!' she gave when it was obvious what was going on from one glance! All she had to do was just close the tapestry and leave without saying a word! But no, she said 'Oops!'" Sarah's glare deepened. "She _meant_ to interrupt us!" She turned her glare on the back of the tapestry now blocking the doorway. "Bitch!"

"Sarah, are you…jealous?" Jareth sounded so immensely self-satisfied that Sarah wanted to smack him, right there and then, smack the smugness out of his voice and off his face. Her hand even tightened into a fist, but she valiantly resisted the urge and merely satisfied herself with glaring at him.

"I don't appreciate being condescended to, if you haven't figured that out yet," she said stiffly. "And I don't appreciate strange women coming into our—your bedroom," she corrected herself, hoping Jareth hadn't noticed the slip.

Of course he had. "It is our bedchamber, indeed, Sarah, till you relinquish it…or till you decide to claim it forever." The smugness vanished as rapidly as his smile dissolved into a thoughtful frown. "Still, 'twas passing strange for Elizabeta to seek me out in my own castle; things did not end well between us, as I already mentioned." He rose to his feet. "I must find out what she wants."

"I already told you; she wants _you_," Sarah muttered. "Doesn't she know you've asked me to marry you?" Something occurred to her then, and her eyes widened as she asked: "Wait, does _anyone_ know you asked me to marry you?"

Jareth's frown deepened into another scowl. "They'll know when they need to know, sweet. Till you give me your answer, it stays between us. As for your absurd allegations…I doubt very much that Elizabeta came here intending to seduce me. She _always_ dresses that way," he added in anticipation of her next objection.

Sarah scowled furiously. "I. Don't. _Care_," she ground out. "But if she does want you back—and she does, trust me on this—you'd better make damn sure not to do anything you'll regret when I take our child and leave you and the Underground behind forever."

Instead of being insulted or upset at her threatening words, Jareth seemed pleased. He went so far as to lean down to capture a kiss from her unwilling lips. "Jealousy becomes you, love," he murmured when the kiss ended. "I must say, I rather like this new possessive streak. And I assure you," he added, looking deeply into her eyes, "that no one, certainly no former lover, could take your place in either my bed or my heart." Then he spoiled it by adding: "Besides, it would negate the terms of our current contract."

Before Sarah could make the heated response she felt fighting its way through her lips, he was gone, sparkles and glitter lingering in the air for a long moment after he vanished from sight.

But not before bestowing a self-satisfied, _knowing_ look on her.

"Gaah!" Sarah yelled, pounding the arms of the chair in her fury. Stupid, arrogant, _bastard_! She felt tears stinging her eyes. How could he not recognize when someone was after him? And how could she, a mere mortal, hope to compete with a tall, gorgeous, self-assured, aristocratic, and, and, and-_-blonde_ Fae noblewoman?

That thought brought her up short; did she even _want_ to compete? When had she started being so possessive about Jareth, anyway? And when had she started to assume she had a future with him? Because she did think that, in a tentative, uncertain way, or she'd wouldn't even care if other women were giving him the eye.

Well, yes, she admitted, she would care, if only because he made her feel so damned special. He'd gone from vengeful seducer to lover to would-be husband—and father—in less than a year. Less than a year-and-a-day, as a matter of fact.

Sarah buried her head in her hands. Any possible leverage she might have against Jareth's shameless machinations had been swept away by her reaction—her overreaction, she admitted wretchedly—to the presence of a potential rival for his affections. Now he knew what she'd been trying so desperately to keep from him. What she'd been so desperately trying to keep from herself.

Now he knew she was in love with him.

* * *

_A/N: That's me, always upping the ante. What does Elizabeta's presence mean for Jareth and Sarah's relationship? What does Sarah's realization about her feelings for Jareth mean for her? What does his understanding of her realization mean for them both? Tune in next time for "As the Plot Sizzles"!_


	35. Small Claims

**oOo**

Jareth was, in a word, pissed. Not in the British sense, although he almost wished he was; a stiff drink would do wonders for him right about now. But no, he was pissed strictly in the colloquial American sense. Royally pissed, to be exact. How dare she, how DARE Elizabeta simply show up out of her self-imposed exile to the Outerlands and just pop into his castle without so much as a by-your-leave?

He knew the answer to that question before he even phrased it mentally. Elizabeta dared because that was who she was, because it was the way she'd always been; impulsive, a rule-flaunter, a risk-taker. Once, it had excited him. Then her constant need for attention and thrill-seeking began to annoy and eventually sicken him. A woman who didn't know when to quit was exciting in the short-term, but hardly a quality that made for a long-term relationship. Sarah, on the other hand…also did not know when to stop, he admitted with a silent chortle that eased some of his ire. However, her not knowing when to stop and Elizabeta doing the same were different by a degree of magnitude even he couldn't calculate.

At least, so he told himself. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he'd never loved Elizabeta.

Love. There was that word again. It was one he'd never once used in his life, even in reference to his parents or sister or half-siblings, yet it was the one word on his mind these days. And all because of Sarah. His mood softened as he remembered her jealous reaction to Elizabeta, and her absurd contention that the Fae noblewoman "wanted him back." He snorted. His mother would consider that a vulgar phrase, not to mention an inaccurate one.

Speaking of vulgar phrases… "All right, Elizabeta, you've made your grand entrance. You can stop lurking about now and behave as a proper guest."

She materialized in a rain of silvery sparkles even shinier and more ostentatious than the ones that usually heralded his mother's arrival. Her dress shimmered in the subdued lighting of his throne room, her hair shone with a king's ransom in rubies sprinkled throughout the heavy blonde tresses, and a welcoming smile hovered over her lips. The smile, however, did not reach her eyes, and vanished as she cast a disparaging eye over the mess that littered the room. "Really, Jareth," she said in a mocking drawl as she stepped over the recumbent form of a sleeping goblin, "you never change."

"Nor do you," he replied as he dropped into throne, studying her suspiciously as she stepped delicately around a second sleeping goblin and the chicken he held cradled in his arms. "As lovely and charming—and thoughtless—as ever."

"And you are as handsome and devilish and randy as ever, judging from what I just witnessed," she shot back. Without allowing him time to respond she tapped an impatient—and impeccably shod—foot against the cold stone floor. "And you call _me_ thoughtless. Really, Jareth, a chair, if you please?"

Muttering under his breath as he did so, he snapped his fingers. Before he returned his hand to his side, a plain wooden chair appeared next to her. Elizabeta took it without comment and continued to look at him, a secretive smile hovering over her lips. "Aren't you going to ask after my health?"

"You appear to be in perfect health, as always, so I see no need to make such an inquiry. I suppose," he added as she opened her mouth to say something else, "that your next question will be something along the lines of, don't you wonder where I've been? Am I correct?"

"Of course you are," she said, keeping her tone playful, but the hard glitter in her eyes gave away her true temper. "Well?" she prompted with a pout. "Don't you wonder?"

"Far away from here, where you told me, in exquisite detail, you wanted to be. As far away from me and my 'motley little kingdom' as possible," he obliged her by answering. "The only question is, why have you returned?"

She settled herself more comfortably in the chair, hands clasped demurely on her lap as she lowered her eyes and bit her lip in yet another parody of the innocent damsel she'd never been. "It's been six years, Jareth," she said musingly. "Six years, and not once did you ask after me or seek me out. I could have been a prisoner for all you knew."

"For all he cared, too," someone muttered in the background. A titter of laughter passed around the room, quickly stifled as Elizabeta glared over her shoulder.

"Can't we have this discussion in private?" she demanded through gritted teeth.

Good, he was getting to the real Elizabeta at last. This coy act was tiresome. With a wave of his hand, Jareth dismissed his subjects, sleeping and awake alike, as well as the chickens and some of the clutter on the floor. Not for her sake, but because he could sense Sarah's approach and knew she disapproved of his messy throne room as much as anyone else. The difference was, he cared what she thought, enough to do something about it if she was going to be around.

"Semi-private," he murmured with a smile as Elizabeta started to speak. She raised an eyebrow and glanced in the direction of the door, to see what had caught his attention and removed it so thoroughly away from her.

Sarah was standing there, no longer clad in the gown she'd been not-wearing when Elizabeta interrupted them, but in a rather fetching green knit Aboveground dress whose v-necked bodice showed off her increased cleavage quite nicely, just as the simple lines of the dress showed off the increasing bulge in her middle.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," Sarah said in a tone of voice that indicated she meant the exact opposite. Which was just like her, the little minx, Jareth thought affectionately.

"We were having a private discussion that does not concern you," Elizabeta replied in her iciest tones. Then her eyes dropped to Sarah's waistline and a smirk distorted her features. "Well, perhaps it does at that. Especially if you thought you were bearing Jareth's heir."

The silence with which her remark was greeted seemed to please her; her smile broadened and actually reached her eyes. "What, you thought you were the first to give Jareth a child?"

"She is," Jareth said, in voice gone as cold and deadly as Sarah had ever heard it. He rose slowly from his throne and stepped over till he was leaning directly over Elizabeta's seated form. "What exactly are you saying?" He raised a finger warningly. "Think carefully before you answer me."

She looked up at him, unafraid and apparently feeling no disadvantage in her lower position. "I am saying," she said, enunciating every word with knife-like precision, "that your little mortal is not the mother of your first child. I have that honor."

Sarah stared at Jareth, then back at Elizabeta, but the Goblin King spoke the words on her mind. "You're lying."

"I'm not," Elizabeta contradicted him, a triumphant smile playing about the corners of her lips. "And I'd be a fool to do so, would I not? To lie about something so easily disproved—or proved?"

"Produce the child," Jareth said flatly. "In front of the High King, in two hour's time. Sarah and I will meet you there." He turned to face Sarah then, his face expressionless. "I will help you prepare the proper attire for attendance at the High King's court." Without another look at Elizabeta, he took Sarah's arm and escorted her from the throne room, for once walking rather than simply transporting her magically from one room to the next.

As they strode down the hallways, Sarah half-running to keep up with Jareth's long strides, she understood why he wanted to take the long way; he needed to work off some of the fury Elizabeta's words had obviously raised. Sarah kept her thoughts to herself as they moved, but when she almost tripped over an uneven stone, Jareth finally slowed and placed a solicitous arm around her waist. "Forgive me. I hurry you needlessly."

"If you want to do a few laps around the castle, I can wait," Sarah offered, half-seriously. "Or just magic up my clothes to button themselves."

"What, and deprive myself of a task I've grown to enjoy?" Jareth replied, responding to her attempt at humor. The stiffness in his back eased just the tiniest bit.

"Is it possible, could she be telling the truth?" Sarah ventured as they reached the massive oaken door that led to "their" chambers. She barely gave a thought to a phrase that would have horrified her only a few short months ago, to the fact that she considered Jareth's chambers hers as well; she was too caught up in the sudden fear that Elizabeta's revelation had sent coursing through her system like a well-placed grenade on a battlefield.

What would that mean for their baby, if Jareth was a father already? Would he still want her to stay with him, would his half-human child mean less to him than one of full Fae blood?

"Anything is possible, especially in the Underground," Jareth was saying, oblivious to the frantic direction her thoughts were panicking toward. "Were we lovers? Yes. Would she have been spiteful enough at the end of our relationship to keep such a secret? No doubt. Could she have managed to keep such a secret from not only myself but my family and everyone in the Underground for six years? Difficult, but not impossible. She has kept herself well away from the my father's court and Fae society since she left me, and no one knows where she was or what she was doing during that time."

As he spoke, he led her toward the bathing chamber and her trunks of clothes. A closet had magically (of course) appeared in the far wall a few days ago, but she hadn't unpacked yet and he hadn't moved her clothes himself. Of course it meant he was waiting for her to make the first move; if she unpacked, then she planned to stay. It was one of his most unsubtle machinations, and it was clearly the last thing on his mind at the moment as he stood in frowning regard over the chest holding her meager supply of gowns.

"So she could be telling the truth," Sarah prompted him, her heart in her throat. Why couldn't he tell how much this was distressing her? What happened to that bond he shared with their baby, the one he claimed to have used to save her when she fell off the ladder? Or maybe Baby didn't consider his or her mother's emotional distress anything to worry about?

"She could be," he conceded absently as he raised the lid to the trunk. "But I doubt very much that my Lady Elizabeta was doing anything so mundane as secretly raising a child for the past six years."

Six years. One more year than he'd begun what his sister termed his "obsession" with Sarah. So Elizabeta wasn't only The Woman In His Past, she was The Woman In His _Immediate_ Past.

Jareth gestured and the dresses presented themselves one by one, hanging obediently in the air as if displayed by invisible mannequins. One by one he discarded them as not fine enough to be worn for her first formal presentation at court. "No, no, no," he muttered, raking fingers through his hair. "Nowhere near good enough. What was I thinking to forget so important a garment?"

"Wait, I thought this was about Elizabeta," Sarah objected, distracted from dark thoughts about the Fae noblewoman by Jareth's words. "Why do I have to come anyway?"

"Because this directly affects you, Sarah, you and our child," Jareth replied, turning to face her and finally noticing the distress on her face. He caught her in his arms and tilted her head up for a reassuring kiss. "If Elizabeta has given birth to my first child, then that child will be my heir to the throne, and yours will simply become the next Goblin King."

"Or Queen," she replied automatically. "But we could still be with you, right? If I decide to stay," she added belatedly remembering that she hadn't officially made up her mind yet. And grateful that the situation meant neither of them had to deal with her slip of the tongue earlier and the whole question of who loved who and who was going to be the first to admit it…

"Of course," Jareth replied, then turned his attention back to her clothes. "My apologies, Sarah, but time is short and you must be prepared. You are the mother of my heir presumptive and therefore have the right and the duty to attend the hearing that will take place in less than two hours time. Protocol demands it, even of a mortal." He snorted and waved an impatient hand, causing her gowns to collapse to the floor. "And you haven't the proper dress…"

Sarah caught at his arm, forcing herself to concentrate on the problem of the dresses. At least that was something easily solved. "Jareth, maybe you should just, you know, magic me up a new one? Like you did for dinner the other night? That one was really gorgeous."

"That one was modeled after one of my sister's court gowns," Jareth replied absently. "I don't dare try such a trick at court itself; people take notice of such things, and even if I have no cares for their opinions, I do not wish you to take on any unnecessary criticism."

While Sarah considered whether or not to be insulted that Jareth had dressed her in something he'd once seen his sister wearing, he turned to press a distracted kiss on her forehead. "Sarah, I will be right back," he promised, then vanished.

The sparkles were darkles this time, black and glittering like confetti at a Halloween party. Sarah wasted no time in stripping off her clothes and climbing into the bath, not bothering to do more than duck herself completely under the water before hurrying back out and wrapping herself in her luxurious green robe. Who knew what Jareth had in mind; she had no intention of being caught dawdling in the water, and the magic of the bath took care of everything from teeth to toenails. Even her hair was tangle-free and full of shine any shampoo commercial would envy.

As she pushed aside the tapestry that led back to the main chamber she was heartily glad that she'd covered herself up. Jareth had returned, Lysira in tow, and a gaggle of other Fae women. Each held a dress in her arms; Lysira held two. She wasted no time in grasping Sarah by one arm and dragging her over the window. A full-length mirror appeared in front of them, and she thrust one dress in front of Sarah, looking over its billowing orchid folds critically. "No," she snapped, dropping it to the floor before holding up the second garment, a rainbow of pastels and glitter that Sarah would have loved. When she was fifteen. Or twelve.

Apparently Lysira agreed; the pastel rainbow joined the orchid puddle on the floor. "Next." One of the other women hurried to her side and handed over the dress she'd been holding.

Lysira rejected that one as well, and the next, and the next, but nodded at the sixth one. "This is it," she said. "Jareth, leave us. We'll meet you at the court at the appointed time, never fear. You have your own toilette to prepare."

Sarah spent the next forty-five minutes feeling like a combination dressmaker's dummy and child's doll as she was dressed, head to toe, in glittering layers of satin and chiffon or the Underground equivalent; whatever the fabrics, they were heavenly to look at and the lightest, softest material Sarah had ever felt. The gown was a silvery white not unlike the dress she'd worn when Jareth had attempted to seduce her away from rescuing Toby all those years ago; had it really only been five?

Yes it had. Five years, and suddenly she was about to be presented at the High King's Court. In order to witness whatever it was Elizabeta had planned to back up her outrageous claims.

Sarah's stomach clenched with dread as she allowed her hair to be done, her face made up, her nails painted, and soft satin slippers placed on her feet over stockings of the sheerest, lightest silk she'd ever worn. Once again her fears came crowding to the forefront of her mind. If Elizabeta was telling the truth, what would that mean for Sarah and her child? Oh, Jareth wasn't about to just throw her aside, but surely the whole question of Elevation and marriage might be moot issues if he already had a fully Fae heir. She hadn't thought to look into such a situation during her readings, nor had anything like it caught her eye.

When she ventured to ask Lysira about it, Jareth's sister merely shook her head. "Not for you to worry about; one thing at a time," she advised, managing not to sound condescending. She gave Sarah a sympathetic smile. "Let's see if Elizabeta can support her outrageous claims first."

Ten minutes later, she was ready, or so Lysira assured her. Outwardly maybe, but inside her mind was a chaotic whirl and her heart was trying to beat itself out of her chest and her stomach was clenched as tightly as a fist. She consoled herself with the thought that at least she wasn't nauseous, then allowed herself to be tugged until she stood directly in front of the mirror.

Sarah almost didn't recognize herself. The makeup that had been applied was subtle and as light on the skin of her face as the clothes were light on her body; a smoky eye, a touch of pink on lips and cheeks, and the rest a smooth golden glow that seemed as natural as if she'd been born that way. Her hair was full and thick and waved, pulled back from her face by ropes of opals and pearls and even a diamond nestled at the peak of her forehead. Not a crown or even a diadem, just the large gem, glittering even in the limited light of the room.

Her gown fit her beautifully, the bodice fairly modest but still showing off her bustline, the full skirts almost floating around her legs. The waist was Empire-style and her slight baby bulge was fully hidden, although Lysira assured her that wasn't an issue. "We're not trying to hide anything about you, just show you to your best advantage," she said, giving Sarah's arm an encouraging squeeze. "Are you ready?"

"In about a hundred years," Sarah muttered, and Lysira's musical laugh rang out.

"She's ready for you!" she called out. She gave Sarah's arm another affectionate squeeze, then she and her ladies vanished as Jareth reappeared.

He looked her over approvingly, and Sarah did the same for him. He wore a formal black jacket that glittered with jet beads that would have made any other man look effeminate; on him, it just served to set off his trim figure and wild mane of blonde hair. He wore a white shirt beneath the jacket with a stiff, formal collar that reminded Sarah the movie "Pride and Prejudice", plain black knee breeches with white stockings and black shoes with jet buckles and a slight heel. Only the Goblin King could pull off such a look.

Without a word he offered her his arm. Sarah took it, looking up at him uncertainly. "So what happens next?" she started to ask, then let out a tiny gasp as the air shimmered around them, the room's features running together as if made of water-colors caught in the rain, then suddenly they were elsewhere.

* * *

_A/N: Yes, it's been a long time coming. But I totally know where I'm going with the rest of the story, got it all blocked out and ready to commit to paper. Er, electrons. Whatever. Enjoy the fireworks to come_


	36. Court

**The High King's Palace (Still day 232!)**

Later, when asked to describe the High King's court, all Sarah could come up with was "Overwhelming." No mere words could begin to describe the opulence that surrounded her, the explosion of sights and sounds, smells and textures; even the ground felt…vibrant, she would occasionally say, when groping for the right words.

She never found them.

But that was in the future. As for now…all Sarah felt when they materialized in the court of the High King of the Fae was dizzy and slightly nauseated, as much by the sudden journey as by the sights and sounds and smells and sensations that surrounded them. Her first impression after the bodily discomfort faded was that of an endless wall of people; when she turned her eyes to the side, she realized the wall was a circle, that she and Jareth stood in the middle of a vast crowd of people, some of whom, she realized as her eyes had time to adjust, weren't exactly people in the strictest sense of the word. All of the them standing and staring, or so it felt, right at her. People and sort-of people talking and laughing and gesturing, but all eyes focused on the interior of the circle. On her and Jareth.

Before she could drink in any additional details there was a flash of light and Jareth parents appeared. They were dressed even more formally than they had been when they'd dined together…when was it? Had it really only been two months ago? Close enough to that, she decided as she attempted to join the rest of the crowd in bowing to their monarchs.

"Not us," Jareth hissed at her from the corner of his mouth, his hand tightening on Sarah's elbow and forcing her to remain upright.

She gulped and nodded, a quick, frantic nod she had to literally force herself to stop. Her head wanted to move in time with her heart rate, which was moving along at quite a gallop by now.

Jareth took a single step forward as the surrounding crowd fell silent and returned to the fully upright position. "My Lord, My Lady Mother, I present my bride to be and mother of my heir, Sarah Marie Williams of the Aboveground."

Oberon and Titania studied her as if they'd never met her before. "She is welcome in our Court and in our lands," Oberon proclaimed in tones as formal as those his son had used. "However, there is another claimant to be presented, here and now." He spoke her name, a long string of syllables that flowed like music to Sarah's ears, but ended with "Elizabeta."

It was her turn to make a flashy entrance, and she did so in a shower of hazy pinks and blues more suitable to a child's nursery than to the prickly bitch Sarah regarded her as.

All jealous, angry thoughts melted away in a wave of shock and disbelief as a small child stepped from beside Elizabeta and made a pretty little curtsy to the king and queen. "Greetings, Grandfather, Grandmother." Then she turned and offered a curtsy to Jareth. "Greetings, Papa. I'm pleased to meet you."

She was lovely, with features drawn so delicately that on a human child they would have portrayed gauntness rather than the elfin sweetness that this Fae child projected. Her hair was blonde, but had none of the spikiness of either her father or her grandfather; instead, it tumbled in soft curls down her neck and shoulders. Her eyes were mismatched, one blue and one the same emerald green as Oberon's. She wore a simple white frock that came to her knees, a pair of soft blue slippers and a matching sash around her waist.

Jareth stood as still and silent as a statue beside her; Sarah could feel the tension radiating off him as he studied the child. "Blood must call to blood," he said after a long moment.

"Agreed." Elizabeta stepped forward, one hand on the child's shoulder. Sarah studied her as intently as she'd examined the child, and two more different beings she'd be hard pressed to imagine. It wasn't that they didn't look alike; it was more a matter of innocence against a background of corruption. Elizabeta's gloating smile didn't help, either, and Sarah was sorely tempted to slap it off her face.

"Even if the child's blood calls to mine, even if I acknowledge her as my heir to the Fae throne, I wish this child, mine and Sarah's, to be named heir to the Goblin City, the Labyrinth, and to be given all rights and honors that come with the title of Goblin King. Or Queen."

"Agreed." That time it was Oberon who spoke, and Sarah bit her lip in order to keep from protesting that she hadn't even decided if she and her baby were going to stay here. It probably wouldn't matter anyway, if what Jareth said was true and eventually her child would make its way here from Aboveground. Blood calling to blood, Sarah guessed, which brought her back to the present moment. What specific meaning did that saying have right here and right now?

She was about to find out. With a gentle squeeze of her elbow, Jareth released his hold on Sarah and stepped forward to join Elizabeta, the child and his parents. A sixth person appeared, a grave older man with a wispy gray beard and an elaborate headdress that looked as if it might topple off his head at any minute (it never did). He held up a gnarled wooden staff with some kind of gold knob on the top and waited until Jareth, Elizabeta and the child stood directly in front of him while Oberon and Titania took their places on either side of the newcomer.

Sarah gasped when she realized he held a long, slender dagger, also apparently made of gold, in his other hand. He gestured, and the three standing in front of him each held out their left hands. The dagger sliced delicately but swiftly, once, twice, three times, the child remaining as stoically silent as her purported parents, and the blood was allowed to well up and pool in their palms.

When the judge or doctor or whatever he was seemed to feel he had enough of a sample, he stepped back and lowered the staff over each hand in turn. Sarah watched, wide eyed, as the blood rose upward to meet the staff's rounded head and pool in three separate spots, in defiance of gravity and physics and every other law of the physical universe Sarah's dazzled and dazed mind could think of.

The mage (_doctor? geneticist?)_ studied the blood for a long pair of minutes. Then he held the bloody dagger over it, a couple of inches away…

…and as one, the three perfect circles ran together and formed a single, larger oval on the head of the staff.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the gathered crowd, and Sarah saw Jareth's back stiffen further before he visibly took hold of himself and turned away from the staff. "The blood has told," he announced in grim tones. "I acknowledge Viria, daughter of Elizabeta and myself, as my eldest child and heir to the throne of the Fae."

Sarah felt her head spinning; her vision shrank to a pinpoint, and with a faint sigh, she slipped to the floor in her very first faint.

* * *

_A/N: Yes, I know. I'm evil. But at least I updated in less than a month, I get points for that, right? Right? (Smiles hopefully)_


	37. Time for The Talk

**The Next Evening (Day 233)**

"I feel like a perfect idiot," Sarah grumbled as she sat up in bed. She hadn't been allowed to leave the stupid thing ever since returning from the High King's court, except for potty breaks and only then if Jareth carried her. "It's not like I'm afraid that you won't want our baby just because you have a daughter already to be your main heir."

There. She'd said it, and she believed it and hoped Jareth believed it to. Actually, what she secretly hoped was that he cared enough to wonder or worry. Which, obviously, he did, since he'd scarcely left her side since she awoke from her faint to find herself in his arms at the doctor's house.

Amyra kept assuring them both that she was fine, it was merely the emotional strain coupled with the pregnancy that had caused the faint and nothing more sinister. Still, she agreed that a full day and night and perhaps another day of bed rest wouldn't do Sarah or the baby any harm, and that was the end of that. They'd returned to the castle and Sarah found herself in bed, wearing her most comfortable flannel nightgown, a cup of herbal tea by her elbow and a cluster of anxious goblins crowding the doorway.

"She's fine, you've all seen her, tell the rest of your group what you saw and let her rest!" Jareth had thundered. The goblins dispersed, unwillingly, Hoggle the last to go. Well, second to last; Ludo stuck his head back in the open doorway and waved disconsolately to Sarah before the heavy wooden door slammed itself shut on the motley hoard. "They were just worried about me," Sarah had protested, but Jareth had merely turned his glare on her and pointing at the pillows.

She obediently slumped down against the soft mound and was surprised to find herself almost immediately drifting off to sleep.

Much as wanted to blame Jareth for her sudden descent into slumberland when she awoke, she knew it was simply because she had, indeed, been exhausted and needed the rest.

Now, however, she'd gone from needing rest to restless. Restless and ready to finally talk about what had happened at court; ready or not, here she came.

"We can discuss what happened when you are fully recovered," came Jareth's predictable response. He was sitting over by the fireplace, back to her, apparently intent on the dancing flames.

Sarah drew her knees up to her chest—as closely as she could under the circumstances—and encircled them with her arms. "Jareth, I'm fine. Dr. Amyra just put me on bed rest to humor you, and you know it."

Jareth tilted his head to one side and seemed to be considering escaping via magic, then apparently thought better of the idea and instead walked over to sit facing Sarah. He took one of her hands in his and brought it to his lips. "I worry constantly about you and our baby," he admitted. "I imagine I would have reacted the same to Elizabeta's pregnancy had I been allowed to know of it." He lowered her hand to his lap. "Very well. We shall talk about it, if you desire."

"I'm actually kind of relieved," Sarah admitted. "I mean, if Viria is destined to be Queen of the Fae, then little OB won't have to worry about being anything but the Goblin King or Queen, and believe me, that's a weight off my shoulders."

Jareth had the most peculiar expression on his face. "Little 'Obie'?"

"Not like Obi Wan Kenobi, it's just short for Our Baby," Sarah explained, somewhat sheepishly. "I haven't got any names picked out, and even if I did, we still don't know if it's a boy or a girl, and it gets a little annoying always thinking he or she in my head, so I just started calling the baby OB."

She sounded ridiculous and she knew it, and waited defiantly for Jareth, whose lips were twitching suspiciously, to point it out to her. Miraculously he didn't so much as allow the twitches to become a grin; instead, he leaned forward and kissed her full on the lips. "If you say that's sweet I swear I'll smack you," she murmured when the kiss ended.

Jareth laughed then, throwing back his head and allowing howls of mirth to escape his throat. "Sarah," he gasped after a long moment, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, "you never fail to surprise me." He swooped in for a lingering kiss. "It is, however, very sweet."

He caught her upraised hand deftly in his, kissing each knuckle of her clenched fist until she reluctantly relaxed her fingers. "I never feared your reaction to Viria being my daughter and heir," Jareth continued when he felt the tension leave her body. "I worry more for your safety because of the child's mother."

"She did sort of strike me as the vindictive type," Sarah agreed, her voice as grave as his had become. "But she doesn't really care if our child inherits the Goblin Kingdom, does she?"

"Not in the least; tis my father's throne the woman covets, and unfortunately there is an obscure Fae ruling from centuries past that could win her that prize," Jareth replied. This was the part of the conversation he'd been so reluctant to confront, but he'd allowed Sarah a few days to rest and regain her strength; she'd need every ounce of it to face the forthcoming storm that was Elizabeta.

"What kind of ruling?" Sarah demanded, right on cue, a frown marring the perfect features of her face.

"I may be forced to take Elizabeta as my bride." The words came out as if forced by something other than Jareth's own vocal cords, and Sarah recoiled, exactly as he'd expected her to.

"Marry her? You might have to marry her?" Her hands sought her mid-section in an unconscious gesture of protection. "But what about me, what about us?"

"Is there even an 'us' to consider, Sarah?" Jareth asked softly. "Before I enter into battle over this matter—legal or otherwise—I need to know that the game is worth the candle."

"I won't be your mistress if you have to marry that bitch," Sarah responded promptly. "I don't care how I feel about you or you about me, I just can't see me being the other woman."

"Even if my wife were to allow such an arrangement? Even is she might prefer that I found my pleasure elsewhere?"

There it was, that relative Fae morality again. No, not even just Fae, Sarah had to admit; there were plenty of humans who lived with such "arrangements" back Aboveground. But the question was, could she, Sarah Marie Williams, live that way? Even it meant giving Jareth and eventually their child up?

"I see this isn't a question to be answered lightly," Jareth said when Sarah's silence stretched and grew and showed no signs of ending. "Nor should it be. I'll give you time to consider your answer, in case it needs to be answered. There's always the chance that Elizabeta won't wish to take advantage of the ruling, that she'll be content to know that one day her daughter will sit on the Fae throne and rule over us all."

Sarah made a sound somewhat like "pfft" in response to that comment. "As if," she muttered.

"Agreed," Jareth said with a wry smile. "However, you were wrong about one thing: she does not now nor did she ever want me back."

"Sure she does, just not for the reasons I thought she did," Sarah shot back. "At least now you know for a fact that she's just using you. I just feel sorry for the kid," she added, leaning back against the pillows. "Your daughter. She seems kind of sweet; hard to believe, considering who her parents are," she added with a ghost of a mischeivious grin.

"I intend to find out exactly what kind of a child she is, as soon as Elizabeta allows me more contact with Viria," Jareth replied. He frowned. "For now, she claims the child to be 'too overwhelmed' with all that's happened to be ready to face me in my kingdom, or indeed, to spend any time with me at all."

"That seems kind of suspicious," Sarah said. "Why would she do that if Viria's already been proven to be your daughter?" Hope rose in her heart. "Or is it possible to fool the test?"

Jareth started to shake his head "no," then stopped, a considering look on his face. "Normally I would think not, but Elizabeta's presentation of our daughter was timed rather suspiciously, and you're right; there's no reason to keep us apart now. Unless…" He sprang to his feet, took a few steps away from the bed, then turned back and kissed Sarah full on the lips. "Thank you, my dear. You've pointed me in the proper direction."

He vanished before Sarah could say another word, leaving her gaping in confusion and wondering where Jareth had gone in such a hurry. "Oh well, guess I'll find out when His High and Mightiness is good and ready to tell me," she muttered before plopping her head back against the pile of pillows. But the hope that had been rising was bubbling through her mind, tempered only by the guilty thought that if Elizabeta turned out to have been lying after all, then it was poor Viria who would suffer the consequences of her mother's perfidy.

* * *

_A/N: Believe it or not, this story is getting near the end. The truth about Viria will be revealed: whether it's a truth already known or something new, you will have to wait and see! Enjoy!_


	38. Library Interlude

**The Next Afternoon (Day 234)**

After spending the morning with Ludo, Didymus and Ambrosias, and lunch in the kitchen with Chef and Hoggle, who "just happened" to be eating at the same time she was, Sarah made her way to her favorite place in the castle: the library.

She was also indulging in her favorite habit lately: venting. After filling in Dearie and the Missus on everything that happened at the High King's court, she started in on Jareth. "And then he just vanished and I haven't seen him since," she groused. "Just a note on his pillow that he was working late and didn't want to disturb me."

"Well, there is a great deal for the Goblin King to be doin' under the best of circumstances," the Missus said in a kindly voice. "At least he left you with some hope—and the note, that's a good thing, show's he's thinkin' about you, didn't want you worryin' over him not being there."

"I wasn't worried," Sarah muttered, but her cheeks felt flushed and she knew the bookworms could tell she was lying by the indulgent smiles they offered each other. "Anyway," she said, changing the subject to one slightly less uncomfortable, "it's not me he should be worrying about right now, it's Viria. That poor kid's gonna be in for a rough time if it turns out her mother fooled the test somehow."

The looks the two bookworms exchanged this time were more worried than anything else. "Tis a powerful difficult test to trick," Dearie said slowly. "Not impossible, but difficult."

Sarah, who had been leaning back in her chair facing her friends as they perched on a pile of books in the middle of the table, leaned forward. "So it's been done before?" she asked, feeling conflicted even as she asked the question. Like she said, Viria was the one who would suffer if Elizabitcha turned out to be lying through her pearl-like teeth, and Sarah had no desire to see any child harmed even slightly. Nor would it be a problem if Viria actually was Jareth's daughter; so their own child would never be Elevated, never rule the Fae when the time came. Big deal.

"It has been done, but it's forbidden to discuss it," Dearie replied in a low voice, glancing around the room nervously. "No one knows how, at least, no one outside the Fae court and the ones who did the fooling," he added. "It's never been written down and if it was," he shook his head, "the High King would have the book or scroll burned in the fiery pits of Mordor."

That last bit distracted Sarah; she perked up a bit and asked: "Wait, there's a real Mordor? I thought that was just Tolkein!"

"It is," the Missus replied with a sharp look at her husband. "_Someone's_ been reading too much Aboveground fiction for his own good." She sniffed.

"Well, the king would burn it, anyway," Dearie muttered, looking abashed. "But we've gotten a bit off point, eh? If the child isn't Jareth's true heir, then yours is and there won't be any problems with the two of you being Elevated and you marrying the Goblin King."

Sarah pounced on that last statement. "Yeah, that's part of what I don't get. Why would Viria being his heir keep us from being Elevated or from Jareth marrying me? If he wanted to," she added hastily, remembering that Jareth seemed to want to keep his proposal quiet until she made up her mind.

"Oh, he wants to, never fear on that count," the Missus reassured her, reaching out with one of her front set of hands to pat Sarah comfortingly on the tip of one finger. "I've never seen him so smitten with any woman."

"Ay, and there's been enough of them over the cen—oof!" Dearie gave his wife a hurt look as he rubbed his side. "What was that for?" She nodded at Sarah and his face took on a stricken look. "Sorry, luv, I keep forgetting how humans are about that sort of thing," he said by way of apology.

Sarah decided not to take umbrage; it wasn't the same as when King Oberon had deliberately introduced the subject at their first—and so far only—family dinner.

"So why would Viria's existence stop Jareth from marrying me?" Sarah asked, returning to the subject at hand. Man, they kept wandering off track today! She blamed it on her own distracted mind.

"Why, because Elizabeta is pure-blooded Fey, born and bred, with nary a drop of any other blood going back hundreds of generations," Dearie explained as if it should be self-evident. "A bloodline that pure is a rarity in the Underground, believe you me; only a few families can boast of it nowadays, what with the, er, reproductive issues that have been plaguing the Fey over the past millennium or so."

Sarah wanted to know more about _that_ subject, but decided to keep on track and put it aside for another day. "That still doesn't explain why Jareth would have to marry Elizabitch—er, Elizabeta," she corrected herself with a blush.

"As the mother of Jareth's child and the descendent of a pure bloodline, it would be a deadly insult if he were to place another above her in his esteem, at least publicly," the Missus explained. "Her family would have every right to declare a blood feud against the royal house, which would turn the Fey clans against one another. It would be a long and bitter fight, leaving the Underground and all who survive devastated for centuries to come."

"You sound like you're telling me about something that's happened before," Sarah said slowly.

Both bookworms nodded solemnly, but it was Dearie who continued: "It has, more than once, sadly enough. King Oberon would be foolish to allow it to happen again." He shook his head sadly. "No, if Viria is Jareth's child, then he will have to marry Elizabeta and you, I'm afraid, would never be allowed to be Elevated even if you agreed to be his mistress."

"Yeah, well, I can't see myself as the other woman, and even if what he said is true and our child would find its way back here no matter what I do, I couldn't stay with him under those circumstances," Sarah said, fighting back a sudden desire to cry. "Stupid pregnancy hormones," she muttered as she surreptitiously wiped the corner of her eyes with her sleeve. She sniffed, once, shook her head, and plastered a determined smile on her face. "Well, I never said I was going to stay here in the first place," she declared. "Just until my year-and-a-day are up."

"We'd miss you something fierce if you left," the Missus admitted. "And I can't imagine how King Jareth will be if that day comes and you leave him behind. Even with his new responsibilities, he'd miss you even more than we would."

Dearie nodded sadly in agreement, and the three of them just sat there for a few minutes, each absorbed in their own gloomy thoughts.

Sarah finally leaned back with a sigh and rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands. "I just wish things made more sense," she finally complained. "Every time I think I've got my head wrapped around this place, something else happens and I feel like I'm back at the starting line."

"Perhaps that's part of the problem," the Missus ventured. "The Underground isn't a place based on mortal logic, you know. Perhaps you'd be better off trying to wrap your _heart_ around it instead."

"You mean, go with what I feel and not with what I think?" Sarah asked slowly. "That kind of goes against everything I was ever brought up to believe about problem-solving."

"That's another problem right there," Dearie interjected. "Thinking of our world as a problem to be solved, rather than an experience to be, well, _experienced_."

It was a novel way of approaching things, at least in Sarah's mind, but before they could continue the conversation they were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the Goblin King himself. Without a word he appeared before them, holding out an imperious hand to Sarah and pulling her to her feet. With a curt nod at the bookworms, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and they vanished in the usual shower of sparkles.

* * *

_A/N: Next chapter title: "Truth Be Told." All Shall Be Revealed at least as far as Elizabit...er, Elizabeta is concerned. Enjoy!_


	39. Truth Be Told

They materialized in their bedchamber, close to the warmth of the fire. The banked embers flared up into a roaring flame as Jareth released his grip on Sarah and began pacing back and forth in front of the hearth, as if the fire were responding to his obvious agitation.

"I know how she did it," Jareth said without preamble, his face and voice equally grim.

Sarah felt a conflicting surge of emotions: relief, disbelief, fear, curiosity… "You mean Viria isn't your daughter?" she asked through a throat suddenly tight, as if the emotions were jammed in there.

"She isn't even a person," Jareth snapped. "She's nothing more than a simulacra, a creature made from our combined blood, Elizabeta's and mine." His eyes filled with revulsion, and he almost spat out the last few words: "A _forbidden_ construct."

Silence fell between them after Jareth made his angry denouncement, a silence broken only when Sarah finally drew a deep, ragged breath and let it out in a gusty sigh. "So…what does that mean? What happens to Viria now?"

"There is no Viria," Jareth snarled. Sarah realized he was almost trembling with the intensity of his rage, that she'd never, _ever_, seen him that angry. "Viria does not exist, only that—that—_thing_ Elizabeta created in order to steal the throne from my father."

Sarah chose not to push it, merely reiterated her earlier question in a more neutral form. "So what happens next?"

Jareth seemed to visibly deflate as he rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. "Nothing. Not until I can prove what Elizabeta did."

Sarah stared at him. "Wait, what do you mean, prove it? You just said she did something forbidden to create Viria…"

"Something that, sadly, is difficult to prove once the construct has achieved such a perfect state of mimicry," Jareth said through gritted teeth. What he would never say was that "difficult" was putting it mildly; oftimes a simulacra crafted with the amount of care Elizabeta had obviously used to create Viria went undetected until death, when the creature simply dissolved back into the physical components that went into its creation, usually a pile of sticks and cloth and a few drops of the precious Fae blood that had animated it.

Sarah put a timid hand on his arm, and he almost flinched from her touch before taking hold of himself. What Elizabeta had done was monstrous, beyond the pale of the admittedly elastic limits of what the Fae were and were not allowed to use their magic for, but he had to focus on Sarah and their child right now. Willing himself to relax, he covered her hand with his and tried for a reassuring smile.

Tried, and, it would seem, failed, for Sarah's frown deepened and her fingers tightened on his arm. "Jareth, I get this is a big disappointment for you and that Elizabeta did something wrong," she began, then fell silent as Jareth's attempt at a smile turned into a glare.

"Did something wrong?" he repeated incredulously. "Sarah, you have no idea how inadequate a way of expressing the situation that is! She broke one of our fundamental laws regarding the creations of simulacra; she's attempting to usurp the throne from the ruling family—_my_ family, _my_ throne, one day—and she's going to get away with it unless I can prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what she's done! Wrong? It's monstrous!"

He wrenched his arm away from her grasp and returned to his agitated pacing in front of the hearth. The flames were roaring now, climbing up the chimney and driving Sarah backwards as the heat flared outward.

In spite of his distraction, Jareth noted her reaction and waved a hand toward the flames. They lowered in response to his motion, returning to a more comfortable level, but Sarah could have sworn she heard them muttering as they did so. Maybe it was a goblin fire; she'd never thought about it, but it was always adjusting itself to the temperature of the room…and had nothing to do with the current situation, she reminded herself sharply.

"Did you tell your father yet?" she asked, trying to figure out what, if anything, she could do to help. "Can he help you find the proof you need? And how did you figure it's a trick in the first place?" she demanded, belatedly realizing she'd never asked that essential question.

Jareth stopped pacing and turned to face Sarah. He was still glowering, but she knew it wasn't because of her or anything she'd done so she paid it no mind. "I cast my mind backward to the day when Elizabeta had our final fight before she left me, six years ago…" he began, and Sarah settled onto the nearest chair, her eyes never leaving his face as he replayed that unhappy night for her.

_It had been one hell of a fight, degenerating even to physical combat at one point, if so grand a title could be given to an event that consisted of Elizabeta slapping him and raking her extremely long nails down his cheek before kicking him in the shins._

_Jareth, naturally, had never lifted a finger to do more than defend himself, only going so far as to hold her away from him when she went after him for round two. Well, perhaps his hold on her wrists had been the tiniest bit rougher than it should have been, and perhaps she'd had bruises…but she hadn't stayed long enough for him to find out._

_"I've had it Jareth," she'd hissed through exquisite ruby lips, her eyes flashing with anger. "I'm leaving you and your motley little kingdom behind, forever! I would rather be anywhere than here with you—Aboveground, the hinterlands, the Outer Reaches, even another world would be better than staying in the one you inhabit!"_

_Jareth gave an exaggerated yawn. "Really, Elizabeta, you always say such things when we fight—and the next evening, I find you naked in my bed again."_

_She'd stepped closer at his mocking words, fingers still clawed from her last attack on him. He hadn't bothered healing up the ragged cuts in his cheek, but did so now, obligingly offering her a fresh target should she choose to get physical again. "It won't happen this time, Goblin King," she snarled, face distorted with hatred. "You've made a fool of me for the last time!"_

_Then she'd vanished, so abruptly he felt his eyebrows raising in surprise. It was like her to want the last word, but it wasn't like her to leave in the middle of a fight. Oh well, perhaps it was for the best; he'd grown weary of her theatrics, her incessant neediness, and her constant nagging at him to show more ambition. What was wrong with being the Goblin King? It was a title and throne he'd proudly inherited when his great-great-uncle finally decided to dodder off to the next plane of existence, and dodder really was the right word; the man had allowed himself to show his age as if he were fully mortal once again, shedding the youth and vigor of his Elevated Fae existence like so much unwanted baggage._

_So Elizabeta was gone, possibly for good this time; good. And if she turned up back in his bed, naked and willing and pretending nothing had happened? Perhaps he would allow her to stay, perhaps not. He reached up a hand to his cheek. It no longer stung, but he wouldn't forget that she'd actually drawn blood this time, when she'd never done so before._

"But I did forget," he admitted. "I was distracted by…other things…after she left." A glance at Sarah's face from half-hooded eyes brought a flush to her cheeks; she knew what he'd been distracted by, or rather, who had distracted the Goblin King. "It was the blood under her nails," Jareth continued. "I should never have let her leave without removing it first. Fae blood is powerful in its own right; we never allow it be left behind on a battlefield, lest some enemy use it to do us harm."

"Like using it to make a simulacra." Sarah stumbled over the strange word, eyes wide with sympathy as she gazed up at Jareth. He nodded grimly. "You still haven't told me what you're going to do next," she reminded him.

He stooped to crouch in front of her, taking her hands in his. "I have to find the place where the creature was made, but not just the place; I have to follow Elizabeta to it, see with my own eyes as she created it and then-"

"Wait, what do you mean, 'when she created it'?" Sarah interrupted to demand, bewilderment clear on her face. "Are you talking about…time travel?"

He couldn't blame her for her incredulity; it wasn't a task any Fae undertook lightly, bordering as it did on the forbidden arts, and he told her so, explaining the method even though it was obvious she was having a great deal of trouble wrapping her mind around the concepts he was describing.

"So," Sarah said slowly when he finished his inadequate attempts at explanation, "you're going to move yourself back to the you you were when you had that fight with Elizabeta, then follow her astral path and bear witness to her creating Viria—the simulacra," she corrected herself. "Then you'll come back to your present self and report to your father, allowing him to 'read the truth in your mind,' whatever that means."

Jareth nodded, impressed with her summing up skills. "Yes, it's dangerous," he added, anticipating her next question. "And no, I can't tell anyone where I'm going or what I'm doing; our laws would call for Elizabeta to be brought forward to face the charges, to deny or explain them as she would. And the moment she becomes aware that I know the simulacra is not a real Fae child, she will act to destroy any evidence of that fact, including fouling her own astral trail, disruptive though that would be to her very essence."

Sarah looked like she wanted to ask about that, but he raised a finger to her lips to shush her. "Sarah, I must leave now, immediately, to keep Elizabeta from interfering, and interfere she will, as soon as she finds out I've left and can't be found." He gazed into her eyes, so brown and troubled. "Can I trust you to keep this information to yourself, to share it with no one, even your closest confidants? Even my family, should they interrogate you?"

She sat up straighter in her seat, eyes now flashing with indignation. "Let them try!" she said through gritted teeth. Then she glanced down at her abdomen, uncertainty once again taking control. "But what about the baby? When you say interrogate, you don't mean dungeons or torture or anything, right?"

"I've told you, no Fae would never offer harm to a child, especially one of their own, and that includes my family," Jareth assured her. "None would do more than verbally badger you as to my whereabouts, I can promise you that. Even Elizabeta would know better than to threaten you while you carry my child," he added, although a small voice chimed its doubts in the back of his head. He refused to voice those doubts or allow them show in his eyes as he offered Sarah a confident smile. "Believe me, love, you'll be safe while I'm gone."

He would regret that rash promise, but that regret was sometime in the future. For now, Sarah returned his smile and leaned forward until their foreheads met. "Just be careful," she whispered. "I really, really don't want our baby to end up the Goblin King before even being born."

He kissed her, smothering a laugh as he did so. Trust Sarah to attempt to lighten the moment. Then he rose to his feet, drinking in the sight of her, and vanished in a shower of red and blue sparkles that formed patterns against the backdrop of the flames until Sarah fell asleep in the chair, dreaming of goblins and time machines.

When she woke up, she was no longer in Jareth's chambers.

Contrary to his promises, she was in a dungeon.

* * *

_A/N: Hey, there are no evil cliffhangers, just evil fanfiction writers! I told you you'd discover the truth this chapter, but I didn't say the truth would set you free! Next chapter: Jareth returns, Sarah is missing, and there WILL be hell to pay. Promise!_


	40. Captive Hearts

**Day 240 (One Week Later)**

Not only was the room dark when Jareth appeared, but it was cold. Nor did the fire light when he sent a spark from his mind toward it. He frowned and stretched out with all his senses, natural and supernatural, remaining absolutely still, making no sound as he did it.

"She's not here."

The voice came from the darkness, an all-too-familiar voice. "Father? What's happened?"

"She's gone. Vanished. We thought the two of you had been taken together, yet here you are." A glow of light appeared around his father, illuminating his proud features and very little else. "Where have you been, my son, gone so far that even I could not find you?"

"Searching for the truth," Jareth replied, taking an impatient step forward. "You say Sarah is gone? What happened?" But a coldness clenched his gut that had nothing to do with the outside temperature, and his father's next words confirmed his worst fears.

"We believe Elizabeta took her, in order to ensure her own safety once it was discovered that the child was naught but a foul simulacra. Is it proof of that perfidy you sought, my son?"

Oberon was being uncharacteristically gentle with him. Jareth bowed his head. "Yes, Father. Sought and found. Yet I return to find that you already know what I had up until recently only suspected. When did you find out?"

Inside he was screaming at his father, demanding to know why Sarah hadn't been found, why they were wasting time standing in the dark, empty bedchamber exchanging formal words when they should be searching…yet he knew the answer even as the thoughts swirled chaotically through his mind. Because if Sarah could be found by normal means, by Fae means, she would have been. If she'd been missing for the same amount of time Jareth had been gone, then she'd been taken not long after he left her, and he damned himself for not taking stronger precautions.

He should have known Elizabeta would be one step ahead of him. That she'd make sure one of those steps would be to take the most precious hostages she could, and hide them away so well no one could find them.

"Your sister came to ask Sarah some question I've long forgotten, and took alarm when she found both of you vanished. At first she thought you'd simply spirited the girl away to some frivolous lover's bower; then she learned that you'd left a Sage in charge for an undetermined period of time and knew it to be far more serious than that."

"I brought myself as passenger to my past self, the one that Elizabeta last confronted six mortal years ago," Jareth explained, and that was all he had to explain; his father understood instantly what his son had attempted and even seemed impressed by the effort.

Oberon took a step forward, and the luminescence surrounding him expanded until it filled the entire room. "A courageous step, my son. Unfortunately it seems to be one Elizabeta anticipated. She vanished not long after you and Sarah did, but not the creature she'd created. No, she left that accursed thing behind and instructed it to attack your mother and sister when they were caring for it."

Jareth felt his breath catch in his throat. "Are they…"

"Fine, both of them. Fully recovered. And the simulacra has been destroyed, returned to the heap of filth Elizabeta used to create it."

Finally Jareth heard emotions in his father's voice; anger, disgust, and a pitiless hunger for revenge no less than what he himself felt. "We'll find her, find them both, and Elizabeta will pay. No amount of family influence or purity of blood will save her. On that, you have my oath."

"Mine as well," Jareth grimly replied. "Now if you don't mind, Father, I need to be alone for a while."

"Of course." Oberson vanished, the luminous glow surrounding him vanishing at the same time, once again leaving Jareth alone in the cold and dark.

All to the good. To find a creature of the dark, one needed start in darkness.

**oOo**

**One Week Earlier:**

"Hello? Anyone there?"

Sarah rubbed her arms and shivered slightly. It was cold and damp and dark wherever she was. In whichever dungeon she was currently occupying, she corrected herself silently.

She'd fallen asleep in the comfy chair in front of the fireplace and woken up here, lying on a pile of stinking rags piled haphazardly in one corner of the cell, the one farthest from the door. Above her head, the room's only light came through the small, barred window, the weak winter moonlight barely penetrating the gloom that surrounded her.

She listened, cocking her head to one side and ridiculously glad she'd opted for a comfortable pair of sweats and her university sweatshirt over an oversized t-shirt, sneakers and socks. All clothes Jareth hated, but certainly warmer than most of the clothes she still fit into.

No sound, no movement, no light but that of the moon through the small, grated opening far overhead.

Great.

She was pacing off the measurements of the room, just to have something to do, when a sound came through the narrow grating of the cell door. She saw a flicker of light and wasn't sure if she should move closer or farther away.

When the light paused at her doorway, she opted for discretion over valor; after all, she wasn't just protecting her own life anymore. "Who's there?" she demanded.

The door didn't open, but somehow the light oozed right through wood and iron until the room was filled with it. Sarah shielded her eyes; as it coalesced into a spot not far from her, she lowered her arm and beheld Elizabeta in all her bitchy glory, standing in front of her mortal rival with a frown darkening her features into merely pretty rather than ravishingly beautiful. "Oh," Sarah said after a moment spent in mutual, frowning contemplation. "It's you. What a shock."

Elizabeta's frown deepened. "Mockery? From a prisoner? Interesting. Not quite the reaction I expected; still, Jareth always did like his mortal wenches to show a certain amount of spirit, else he cast them aside more quickly than usual."

"Look, if you're trying to make me feel like I'm out of my league here, too late. I've felt that way since Jareth brought me to the Underground," Sarah said, crossing her arms defensively and tossing her hair back over her shoulders. "You're a gorgeous blonde Fae, I'm a mousy brunette mortal, blah, blah, blah." She took a step forward, greatly daring. "But I'm the one actually carrying Jareth's child, and you're the one who had to fake one up to try and hang onto him. So who's really the insecure one?"

Elizabeta laughed. "Really? You think I created Viria to try and hold onto Jareth, to lure him back into my bed?"

Sarah's voice was heavy with uncertainty as she replied. "Well, yeah, I mean, why else would you go to so much trouble?"

"Think, girl, even mortals have been blessed with brains, no matter how limited," Elizabeta said mockingly. "What could I possibly covet of Jareth's besides his rather spectacular skills in bed?"

She was right; it wasn't hard to figure out, once she put it that way. "You wanted to use that fake kid to get his throne—no, wait, not the Goblin King's throne," Sarah breathed disbelievingly. "You wanted to use it get his _father's_ throne?"

"But of course," the elven woman sneered. Wow, amazing what an expression like that could do to an otherwise perfect face. Not pretty. "What other prize could be worth the risks I've taken, the 'crimes' I've supposedly committed? Certainly not Jareth himself, although I'd have been happy to act as a true wife to him after we were wed…and before he and his family met with their untimely deaths."

"Wow," was all Sarah managed. She'd thought of true evil as being something abstract, a concept rather than an actuality, and here she was, faced with it. Not insanity, not demonic possession, but an actual, living, breathing person, Fae, whatever. She stepped back, suddenly terrified of this woman, of what she might be capable of…what if she'd slipped so far beyond what the Fae deemed acceptable behavior that she might consider harming a child? Sarah hugged her mid-section protectively. "What are you going to do to me? To us?" she asked in a near whisper.

"Use you as bait, of course," she replied promptly. "To lure Jareth here, to force him to find a way to keep his father from tearing me apart for creating Viria, my lovely, deadly little simulacra. She failed, by the way, in killing Titania and Lysira," she added with a disdainful toss of her head. "But no matter. Jareth very kindly left you behind for me to use as a lure and a threat, you and the half-breed brat you're carrying." Her expression hardened from disdain to disgust as she spat out those last words. "Most of the Fae care not about the purity of their bloodlines, the fools." She stepped back, moving so smoothly her skirt barely even rippled. "Good-bye, Sarah Williams. We'll not speak again until Jareth is ready to negotiate for your release. But not to worry, my minions will be sure you're kept fed and watered and reasonably clean."

"Yeah, that'll be easy to manage in this pit," Sarah replied, managing to keep her voice from trembling and as proud of that accomplishment as she'd ever been of a straight-A report card.

Elizabeta sighed impatiently. "Very well," she snapped. "Consider this my gift to you. Granting a last request, as it were." She vanished, but some of the light remained behind in the form of a softly glowing lantern. That sat on a table that hadn't been there before. With a single wooden chair next to. Sarah gasped as a bed, not much more than a narrow cot, appeared on the wall to her left, but a narrow cot with a pillow and several warm-looking blankets heaped on it. A pitcher of water and plate of food appeared on the table, and what appeared to be an old-fashioned chamber pot materialized in one corner.

"All the comforts of home," she muttered sardonically, then forced herself to sit at the table and eat some of the unappetizing mess she'd been given. A stew, she supposed, picking at it doubtfully, but she needed to keep her strength up, she was eating for two these days, even if it was unidentifiable meat and vegetables in a greasy brown broth. At least the water was clean and clear and tasted wonderful.

When she finished, she splashed some of the remaining water on her face, finger-combed her hair into a semblance of order, then tried out the cot. Hard, but not unbearable; at least the stinking pile of rags was gone. She arranged the blankets around and under her, squirmed into the most comfortable position she could manage, and urged herself to sleep. The faster she got to sleep, the faster the night would pass.

**Later**

Apparently day and night were as arbitrary here as seasons were in the Goblin lands; sometimes sunset came after only a few hours of darkness, sometimes it seemed like days before it appeared again. That is, supposing the window in Sarah's cell actually showed the outdoors and wasn't just some whimsy of Elizabeta's.

She couldn't even rely on meals to tell how much time had passed, since they came erratically at best. The only thing she had, reliably, was a full pitcher of crystal clear water that never seemed to need refilling, the constant glow of the lantern, and a chamber pot that emptied itself seconds after she used it. Other than that, she could only guess at how much time might have passed since Elizabeta had taken her prisoner, but she knew it was far too long for comfort.

She'd honestly expected someone to rescue her long before this; after all, if Jareth was using time travel, didn't that mean he should have been back by now? Possibly he was back, but Elizabeta hadn't contacted him yet. It was all speculation, since, true to her word, the Fae bitch hadn't shown her face since that first night. And her "minions," who or whatever they might be, must use magic to send Sarah her food and take away the dirty dishes when she was finished, since she'd seen not a single living being since…how many days had it been?

Too many, Sarah decided wearily as she paced her way around the small cell. Six paces one way, ten the other, then another six and another ten and she was back where she started. It was the only way she had to pass the time other than plotting futile escape plans and staring at the walls and sleeping. She'd tried asking for a book, something to make the time pass more quickly, but had been ignored. Or not heard; who knew?

She was also spending a great deal of time talking to herself, to her baby, to Jareth, even. She never would have imagined herself praying for him to show up and whisk her away with him, but she'd never really imagined herself in a dungeon, either. "I never imagined my life turning out this way, that's for sure," she muttered to herself after another tasteless—but filling—meal.

"I'm sure you didn't," another voice answered her, then suddenly she wasn't alone in the room, Jareth was there, whisking her into her arms exactly as she'd imagined him doing, and the room vanished and they were back in his bedchamber…

…and Sarah started and swore and felt tears sliding down her cheeks as she realized it had been nothing but a dream. A tantalizingly realistic dream. He'd sounded like himself, looked like himself, hell, even felt like himself as he lifted her into his arms and cradled her to his chest.

"God, get me out of here," she moaned as she rolled onto her side. "Someone, anyone, please?"

No one answered, and she spent the rest of the night alternatively crying and dozing.

**The High King's Palace**

"Father, what is it?"

Jareth hurried up to the High King's throne, sketching a hasty bow before taking the steps two at a time to reach his father's side.

His mother was absent; an ominous sign. "Father?" he asked again, schooling his features into a rigid mask. Oberon wouldn't have summoned him here if it wasn't urgent, not when he knew his son was stretching his every resource in searching for Sarah.

"We've had word from Elizabeta," his father finally answered him, reaching up with thin fingers to massage his brow just below the golden crown that encircled his head. "She says she has demands. Of both of us."

"Anything," Jareth replied instantly. "She'll not keep my Grádhág and my child from me."

His beloved, he'd called Sarah; Oberon raised an eyebrow but otherwise refrained from commenting on his son's unexpected use of such an endearment. He knew the boy was fond of Sarah, but hadn't realized how fond until now. That could complicate matters, since his father had no intention of granting Elizabeta anything other than a slow, torturous death for her treachery.

An intention Jareth must have read in his eyes, for he knelt before his father—knelt! He who hadn't been willing to kneel in such a manner since forced to in his youth!—and bowed his head. "Father, I intend to marry Sarah, to Elevate her and our child to full Fae. But in order to do that," he raised his head and looked his father steadily in the eyes, "they have to survive this. Swear to me that you'll do everything in your power to ensure their safety."

Oberon scowled. "Elizabeta has broken laws we hold sacred," he ground out. "Her creature attempted to murder your sister and your mother, and you would have me, what? Let her go free, to commit future mayhem?"

"That is in the future; I am concerned with the here and now," Jareth replied, his own voice as heated as that of his father. "If anything happens to Sarah or our child because your thirst for vengeance was greater than your regard for their safety, I will renounce my claim to this throne and any other, and dedicate my life to your downfall. This I swear on all the blood of our ancestors."

Oberon's scowl disappeared; he beamed approvingly at his son and clapped him on the shoulder as he rose abruptly to his feet. "Well spoken, Jareth. Well spoken. You've found someone other than yourself to put first in your life. I approve, and will do all in my power to keep your betrothed and your child safe. This I swear on all the blood of our ancestors," he added with a smile that was only slightly mocking. "Now come, let us see what Elizabeta demands in return for their continued well-being."

* * *

_A/N: Yes, I know. It's been a long time coming. But it's nearing the end, finally! Next chapter: What are Elizabeta's demands? Will Sarah be rescued? Will there be any more sex scenes, the ostensible reason for this fic in the first place? (Hint: Yes) Tune in next time, my patient and loyal readers, to find out!_


	41. Confrontation

**oOo**

She was waiting for them, arrogantly confident that no harm would come to her as long as she held such valuable hostages. _And, damn her,_ Jareth thought while his mind seethed with rage he outwardly disguised with an expression of mild contempt, _she was right_.

"Jareth, Oberon, how kind of you to join me," she said, silvered compliments overlain by mocking tones that never should have been aimed at the King of the Fae. His wayward heir, certainly, but not he himself. Another reason the woman needed to face well-deserved punishment.

She was clad in a cloth-of-gold gown edged with purest white ermine, her hair carefully pulled back and away from her face by a gold filigree tiara that stopped just short of being a crown. Another carefully wrought insult. Oberon, his face as still and remote as a granite outcropping, went sterner still, but he merely inclined his head to the woman and conjured a simple wooden bench directly behind his and his son's legs, then sat down upon it, indicating that Jareth should do so as well.

Hands clasped loosely together over his crossed knees, Oberon gazed up at Elizabeta and waited for her to speak.

If she were discomforted by this display of regal disdain, she hid it well, at least to Jareth's eyes. Who knew how his father viewed the situation; obviously he felt no unease at allowing her the higher ground, so to speak, as she remained standing before them.

"As you know, I hold your son's mortal and their unborn child in a place of safety while we conduct these negotiations," she began, only to be interrupted by Jareth's incredulous shout.

"A place of safety? You hold them hostage, Elizabeta, in defiance of all Fae law and tradition," he ground out, only to retreat into sullen silence when his father touched him gently on the wrist. Jareth had jumped to his feet, and now he returned to the bench, all pretense at cool detachment gone as he glowered at the woman standing before them.

Elizabeta allowed herself a small, triumphant smile as she continued smoothly where she'd left off: "When we have reached a suitable agreement, I will of course return them to you."

"We have searched the length and breadth of both the Fae and mortal realms for Sarah," Oberon observed coolly. "They are nowhere to be found in either land. Reveal their whereabouts and it is possible you will escape this with your life intact. Unless," he added with a hint of steel, "they've come to any harm, of course."

"The only harm that might come to them would be at the mortal girl's own hands," Elizabeta shot back with a condescending smile. "Her prison is entirely of her own making, creature of two worlds as she's always been."

"Explain," Jareth snapped, enraged by that deliberately ambiguous statement. His hands fisted by his sides, he was only barely restrained from an attempt at physically forcing Sarah's location out of Elizabeta by the knowledge that such tactics would never work on her.

The condescending smile turned malicious. "There's no need for explanation, Goblin King. Only for acquiescence on your part. Once you and your father have given me what I want, you can have her back, no harm done. But I'll never tell you where she is or how she's imprisoned; have you ever known me to be a foolish negotiator?"

"I've known you to be a proud and ambitious woman," Oberon interjected, his expression having eased from polite disinterest to downright boredom, as if forced to listen to the squabbles of a long-married couple he didn't particularly like. "Always those two things have motivated you, as they do now. Let me guess; in exchange for Sarah's freedom, you want Jareth to cede you the Labyrinth."

Elizabeta nodded her acknowledgement of Oberon's guess. "Of course. He can keep the rest of his dinghy little kingdom and its inhabitants, but the Labyrinth is his one true act of genius, and I can make a great deal of use out of it. The magic inherent in its very stones makes for a vast reservoir of power to any who are willing to yield it properly."

That last was a challenge, not only to Jareth but to his father as well, and both recognized it as such. "And from myself?" Oberon asked. "What more could you possibly expect except amnesty for your attempt to kill my wife and daughter in my very palace?"

"Nothing more than that," she conceded. "Amnesty, a full pardon, however you wish to word it. No repercussions for my purported actions."

That finally caused Oberon to change expressions. With a raised eyebrow, he frowned and repeated: "Purported? Woman, that creature of yours bore poison in its lips and tears, and made to kill my loved ones with tears and kisses." He made no effort to hide his anger.

"I have no knowledge of such an attack," Elizabeta replied with equanimity. "In truth, I had nothing to do with Viria's creation. I merely wished aloud that I had borne Jareth's child in our time together, and someone in my court or service overheard that wish and granted it. Why, until I heard of the attack on Queen Titania and Princess Lysira, I had no idea that Viria wasn't my own flesh and blood! At that moment, my memories returned and I realized I had been duped, just as you were."

The outrageousness of that claim left both father and son speechless for almost a full minute, while Elizabeta smiled serenely down at them. Finally, Jareth gathered himself enough to answer that obvious lie. "I followed your astral pathway, Elizabeta. I witnessed the creation of that foul thing, by your own hand."

"And what other witness did you bring along with you to prove this claim?" she asked in her sweetest voice. "Even the son of the king must follow proper protocols when it comes to so serious an accusation against a member of the Fae nobility. Who will back you up in this matter?"

"I will."

The voice rang out from behind Elizabeta; with a gasp, she whirled around to face the speaker. "Father! What are you doing here?"

The Fae lord strode forward, his gilt-edged robes swirling round him like a dark sea, all blacks and grays as if he were in mourning. As, indeed, Jareth knew, he was. "Elizabeta, my only daughter. My most ambitious child. You have crossed a line no Fae should ever cross, and even I cannot save you now. Release the mortal and her child. Now."

Elizabeta had grown paler with every word her father spoke, stumbling back a step as he approached her before seeming to pull herself together. She stood her ground as he towered over her, face tilted defiantly upward. Then her expression changed, softened, and she raised a beseeching hand to his chest. "Father, don't believe their lies," she said in a wheedling voice. "You know I could never do such a thing…I admit, I took Jareth's plaything away from him, but only because I knew I would be accused of so much worse that I needed a way to protect myself. Surely you see…"

"The only thing I see," her father thundered, his face darkening with rage, "is my own daughter lying to my very face. Did you truly think the Goblin King would seek your astral trail on his own, without speaking with me first? Did you not think that I would follow him, to ensure that the truth would be made known, that he would be unable to make such accusations against you with no one to speak in your behalf were it to turn out he was wrong, or lying?"

His voice rose with every word, until the very rafters of the circular chamber shivered in the wake of his wrath. "You not only stole a child while still in its mother's womb, but you created so foul a creature that no one, not even your mother or brothers, is willing to see you! Only I am here, and only because I stand as witness against you." He stepped back, trembling with rage even as his daughter finally understood exactly how badly her gamble had cost her. "Oberon, do what you will with her. She is no longer my flesh and blood." With that, he turned and stormed off.

"Father! No!" Elizabeta cried out, running after him. He vanished through the room's single door before she reached him. It slammed shut in her face, and try as she might she was unable to either open it physically or to use her considerable stores of power to magic herself away.

With the air of a hunted creature at bay, she whirled to face Jareth and Oberon, who had risen to their feet during the father-daughter confrontation and stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, faces set in identical expressions of anger. "This negotiation is ended," Oberon pronounced. "Return Sarah and her child immediately."

"Or what?" Elizabeta raged. "You'll put me to death no matter what I do. Why should I surrender them to you, now or ever? Why," she spat out, turning her burning gaze onto Jareth, "shouldn't you suffer for the rest of your life knowing their fate is to remain imprisoned, eternally out of your reach?"

"Because the manner of your death is yet to be determined," Oberon replied, placing a restraining arm across Jareth's chest, forestalling his son's desire to reach out and throttle his former lover. "As the King, I have a great deal of latitude when it comes to meting out punishment. I could, for example, merely strip you of your powers and allow you to live. Or," he continued, his voice hardening, "I could prolong your death over centuries. The choice is yours."

What answer Elizabeta would have given was lost as she suddenly clenched her head in her hands and cried out in pain. Jareth rushed to her side, not out of any consideration for her well-being, but only to ensure that nothing happened to her before she told them Sarah's whereabouts.

Too late. With a soft moan, Elizabeta collapsed to the floor, dead before Jareth took more than a few steps forward. He continued onward, kneeling by her side and pressing his fingers to her throat. No pulse. He laid his ear to her chest; no heartbeat. A foamy froth discolored her lips, and he swore in purest Goblin at the sight. "She's killed herself," he said disbelievingly. He looked up at his father with anguish in his eyes. "Now we'll never find them."

"There's a clue in what she told us before," his father said, eyes shining with sympathy. He joined Jareth on the floor and laid a comforting arm across his son's shoulders. "Come, we'll work it out together."

As if in a dream, Jareth rose to his feet. Then he turned, and with a truly terrible curse, he spat on the dead body that lay crumpled in its ornate skirts. "Father, please…"

Oberon, who had also returned to his feet, nodded, and the two of them raised their hands over the body. Flames sprang into existence, licking at the dead flesh and fabric, burning until nothing was left but a pile of dark ash, and the twisted remains of a golden tiara.

Then they were gone, the circular hall empty, as it would forever remain, a monument and a warning to any who would dare to cross the King of the Fae and his heir.

* * *

_A/N: Hope everyone is satisfied by Elizabeta's comeuppance, even if she stage-managed her own death. Defiant to the end, my little villainess. I'm kind of sad to see her go...and I'm sure everyone is hoping someone figures out where Sarah is, right? Tune in next time and you'll see!_


	42. He Said, She Said

**Jareth**

Jareth moved as if in a trance, guided only by his father's hand on his arm. He barely noticed when his mother and sister came up to him, embracing him, murmuring soothing, sympathetic words in his ears, helping him to his palace chambers. When he came back to himself, he was lying on his elaborately carved wooden bed, the coverlets beneath him, fully clothed but for his boots, and his mind fastened on Elizabeta's taunting words. "Her prison is entirely of her own making, creature of two worlds as she's always been," he murmured to himself.

The answer was there, but where?

Creature of two worlds…trapped between them both. The answer came to him in a flash, bringing him to his feet and nearly out of the room before doubt held him fast. What if he was wrong? What if he wasted precious time pursuing a course that would ultimately lead to nothing but a…what was the human term? Ah, yes. A dead end.

How apt.

How appallingly apt.

His features hardened as he shook off his uncharacteristic indecisiveness. No matter what avenue was pursued, time continued to pass, and if he did nothing at all the consequences could be deadly. He remembered, vaguely, his parents ordering the Sages and anyone else who might be able to suggest a course of action to put all their resources into finding their son's Grádhág and child-to-be, but he knew it was he who had to be the one to find her.

No matter what, Sarah and his child deserved to be rescued from whatever internal hell Elizabeta had put them into.

And if it was, indeed, an _internal_ hell, then, contrary to what everyone believed, Sarah was somewhere in the physical world, or at least her body was. Find her body, then find where her spirit had been trapped.

He would start in the obvious place, the one place, curiously enough, no one had thought to check, not even Sarah's friends in the Goblin castle.

Her solar.

**oOo**

He appeared in his bedchamber with no sparkles, no flashy entrance, just materializing out of thin air. There was neither the time nor the need to impress anyone today.

He glanced at the fireplace; this time it blazed into life when he sent a thread of magic its way. As he'd expected. Once Elizabeta's malign influence was removed, her meddling revealed, his own powers were freed. It had been subtle, the restraint she'd managed to place on him. And it explained why she'd made her initial reappearance here. Not just to disturb him with Sarah, which she absolutely had intended, but so she could plant her seeds while he was distracted by his outrage at her behavior. Clever. He could admire her abilities even while he despised the use to which they'd been put.

Her House had always shown unique abilities when it came to magic. It was due to the purity of their bloodline, they'd often boasted. True, perhaps, but no purity of bloodline was worth it if the outcome was such ruthless ambition as the latest generation had displayed whilst living. Such…_soullessness_. _It was as well,_ Jareth thought as he strode toward the tapestry covering the door to Sarah's private chamber, _that we never _truly_ produced a child together._

Jareth shoved the tapestry aside and smiled in grim satisfaction. The door was missing; all he saw was the smooth, unbroken surface of the stone wall.

He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead lightly against the wall, raising his hands so his fingertips just barely touched the hard stone surface. The room he'd created was still there, still in existence; good. Elizabeta had only been able to hide it, not move it.

He'd found Sarah; now, all he had to do was figure out how Elizabeta had hidden the room, enter it, and free his beloved and child.

**Sarah**

It was the baby that gave Sarah her first clue that the prison she currently inhabited wasn't exactly what it appeared.

She still had no accurate sense of how much time had passed, but it felt like weeks. Weeks with nothing to do but study her prison, eat and drink when food and drink appeared, use the facilities, and wander through her memories. Her memories, and her hopes for the future.

She thought of the baby constantly, and smiled as she stroked her belly. Not enough time had passed for Sarah to notice any outward changes in her physique and she fervently prayed that she would be freed before she got any bigger. "Before you get any bigger, little girl," she whispered to her stomach.

At some point the baby had gone from being "him or her" to being "she" in Sarah's mind. A girl, with Jareth's wild blonde locks and Sarah's eyes, perhaps? Something else to dream about, how her baby would look when she was born.

She leaned back against the wall, legs folded beneath her on the cot. One hand continued to idly stroke her stomach when she suddenly froze the movement. The baby was stirring beneath her fingers, but it finally dawned on her that she seemed to be feeling the same pattern of movement over and over again. When had she begun to realize that, to intuit it, that there was no randomness to the movement? What did it mean?

Panic edged those thoughts, and she found herself terrified that it meant something had happened to the baby."Calm down, Sarah," she said aloud, hands once again stroking her growing belly. "If something was really wrong, the baby wouldn't be moving at all."

That much she knew to be true, no matter how little experience she had with pregnancies in general. Eased in her mind, she nevertheless frowned. Why would the baby be moving in a set pattern, here, where even the sun and moon traveled at their own whim? Where her food and drink arrived at erratic intervals, where the only regularity was the unchanging walls and the unceasing lantern light and, oddly enough, the self-emptying chamber pot?

And what about those minions Elizabeta had mentioned, the ones supposedly bringing Sarah her food? None had actually shown up to deliver her meals, had they? No, the food always just appeared on her table at random times. She thought hard and decided, no, it wasn't always brought into the cell when she was asleep; she distinctly remembered watching the table and seeing food just show up at least half a dozen times. Besides, she was sure, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she would have awoken at the slightest sound. Like she used to in the beginning, when the squeaking and scurrying of rats used to disturb her both sleeping and awake.

A squeaking and scurrying, come to think of it, she hadn't heard in a long time, either.

What the heck was going on?

Another thing, Sarah realized now that she'd prodded her mind into full functionality again by puzzling over her baby's movements. A subtle change, one she hadn't noticed until now. The prison cell had been cold, dark, and dank when Sarah first arrived. Even the bed and lantern Elizabeta provided shouldn't have made as much of a difference as they had. But the room was definitely warmer, not so damp and smelly as it had been.

The question was, why?

She asked it aloud. "Why is it warmer in here?" Then she followed it with another, equally puzzling and infinitely more disturbing: "And why is the baby kicking me like it's following a pattern?"

There had to be a reason for all of this to be happening. Of course, knowing Elizabeta, the reason could simply be to drive Sarah crazy, but somehow she doubted the other woman would be so subtle after having dumped Sarah into what amounted to a stereotypical dungeon. One Sarah might very well have seen in a dozen "Prisoner of Zenda" type movies in her lifetime.

"Or one I might have dreamed up on my own while acting out a fantasy or play," she whispered to herself while a dawning glimmer of hope stirred in her heart. Could it be, could it possibly be…_No, that _is_ crazy,_ she told herself as she reached out and patted the cold stone wall behind her. Wasn't it?

Could it be she wasn't in a place at all, but was somehow locked away in her own mind?

**Jareth**

The door was still there, but not hidden beneath illusion as he'd originally believed. No, quite the contrary; it had actually been mortared over, stone by stone, then the new covering blended in cleverly with the old. Someone had to have done the work, since there was no scent of magic to it, someone who was likely dead by now. Elizabeta was nothing if not thorough. Thoroughly ruthless.

He paid so little attention to the dimensions of even his private chambers, used as he was to altering rooms and entire floors of the castle at a whim, that he would likely have never noticed had he not been looking for it. He tapped on the stone; solid, no hollow echo. But the door was there, and with a single wave of his hand, the façade was gone, melted into nothingness.

And there was the door.

A door to a room he could not enter unless bade to do so by its occupant.

He pushed it open, and felt his breath gush out of him in a sigh of relief as he beheld Sarah, curled up on her favorite chair, breathing evenly, eyes closed, one hand resting on the gentle swell of her belly. Protecting their child even in her unnatural sleep. The ottoman he'd enchanted for her was beneath her feet, and one of the tassels wagged as if it heard him and wanted him to know that at least one of them would respond to his voice. Stupid piece of furniture, but he found himself grateful that she had some form of company in her prison.

"Sarah?" he called, softly at first, then more loudly. She murmured and stirred, but did not awaken. As expected. Knowing Elizabeta it would take something like a loving kiss to bring Sarah back to consciousness, but that was impossible under the current circumstances. He cursed himself for casting a spell even he could not broach. Contrarily, even after their reconciliation, Sarah still made him ask before permitting entry to her room, although she'd issued her goblin friends blanket entry.

She'd offered her goblin friends blanket entry…he cursed himself for twelve kinds of fool, then vanished from the doorway, reappearing moments later with a flustered Sir Didymus in tow. "Fetch your mistress," Jareth ordered, pushing the foxlike creature forward when he stood frozen in the doorway. "She lies under a foul enchantment."

"My lady!" Didymus yapped, then bounded forward…only to be stopped by some force. He yelped and rubbed his nose, then stepped back and tried again, only to meet the same invisible resistance. He looked up at Jareth in confusion. "My Lord, did you erect this barrier to test my resolve? I swear, I will never give up, never!" And he bounded forward again, only to be stopped by Jareth's hand on his collar.

"She reinforced the barrier," he breathed. Of course she would have; why bother making the chamber appear to be accessible if it actually was? With an absent wave of his hand, he dismissed Didymus, who vanished with a dismayed yelp, then pressed his hand against the invisible shield.

It felt warm beneath his hand, but solid as any glass or stone obstacle could be. He muttered a powerful release spell against it, felt it rebound and cursed Elizabeta's spellcasting abilities roundly. Sarah slept on, oblivious, as he fell silent and leaned his forehead against the barrier. After a moment, unable to resist, he tried calling out to her again: "Sarah, love, if you can hear me, you must try to wake up, else you'll sleep forever, you and our babe, and believe me, she wants to be born some day."

She. How was it that he knew, with a sudden and deep certainty, that Sarah would give birth to a girl-child in less than six months time? Or perhaps longer, if he couldn't breech this barrier. She was in a magical sleep that would keep her preserved as she had been when first enchanted, and he despaired of ever freeing her.

* * *

_A/N: I'm sorry for the loooong delay this time. I'd hoped to catch up on my writing before the holiday season started, but good intentions and all that. At any rate, only a couple more chapters to go, I do solemnly swear! Enjoy, and if I don't get another chapter out before Christmas, happy holidays to all who partake!_


	43. Hope and Change

**Sarah**

"OK, this is crazy. It's nuts. _I'm_ nuts."

Sarah reconsidered her statement. "Well, maybe it's not nuts," she amended. "Maybe it's just as reasonable as anything else that's happened to me in the last couple of months."

She was sitting on her cot, staring intently at the table and chair in front of her. If her suspicions were correct, if all this was just in her head, if the gradual changes she'd sensed were really happening around her, then surely it was because she was somehow influencing things subconsciously. And if she was doing it subconsciously, then maybe, just maybe, she could change things consciously as well. That would prove her theory. Or prove that she was some kind of telepath. Or that she could work magic on some level.

She'd take any one of those possibilities at this point, although she was privately hoping for the "prisoner in my own mind" theory. That one seemed to offer up the most promise; if she was trapped in her own head and able to affect her surroundings, maybe she could get herself out of this mess without having to wait for someone to rescue her. Or for Elizabitch to let her go.

She sat patiently for what felt like hours before finally seeing some evidence that her experiment was working, and then only for the briefest second: a cushion appeared on the hard wooden seat of the chair, then vanished before she could decide if she'd simply imagined it or not.

Still, it was a start. Encouraged, she settled back into a more comfortable position and once again pinned her gaze to the seat of the chair.

If a cushion had appeared once, it would appear again…and stay.

And after that?

She'd consider the possibilities.

**Jareth**

Hoggle watched impassively as Jareth paced back and forth in front of him, taking care not to show how startled he was by the Goblin King's agitated state.

Oh, he'd been plenty agitated in the past, but never like this, and frankly, Hoggle found it encouraging. Not that he'd ever say so, of course, but still, it was another sign that the Goblin King had finally found his heart…and her name was Sarah.

Just the fact that he was allowing anyone to see him in such a state, let alone a mere gardener, was even more encouraging than the emotions themselves. Sure, he probably let his high and mighty Fae family see him like this, but Hoggle? Didymus? _Ludo_? Surely such an unseemly display was unprecedented.

Despite himself, Hoggle felt a grin stretch his lips, and immediately schooled his features back into glum neutrality as the Goblin King's head whipped on his shoulders so he could stare at the dwarf. Then he turned away as abruptly as he'd looked and resumed his momentarily checked pacing. "I've been a fool," he said suddenly, and this time no one could even attempt to hold back a shocked gasp, least of all Hoggle, although his sounded more like an agreeing grunt, which Jareth graciously chose to ignore.

"Well?" This time Jareth turned his glare equally on all those gathered around him: Sarah's friends, his sister, some powerful Fae spellcasters, his mother… "Any thoughts?"

"None we haven't already tried," Lysira said patiently.

"Tis a pity her family cannot be here to rally round her," Didymus suddenly piped up. Everyone's gaze turned to him in surprise, and he ducked his fox-like head in sudden embarrassment. "In her time of need, she should have all who love her nearby, to send thoughts of love and encouragement her way, should she not? Mortal and Fae, dwarf and goblin, all who truly love her."

"Mortal and Fae," Jareth mused, stopping his pacing yet again to stand facing the portal that defied all efforts at removal. "Mortal…" he repeated softly, eyes narrowing with a sudden thought.

"What is it, my son?" his mother asked, stepping to his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Merely a thought, a whisper of a hope," he said in a low voice, eyes focused on the sleeping beauty so near and yet so far. "When I placed the spell, I bethought myself only of the denizens of our world, not those belonging to the mortal realms. Tis possible…" His voice trailed off, as if he were suddenly afraid to voice the possibility.

"Then if tis possible, you must make the attempt, my son," his mother counseled. With one hand she gestured behind her back, and the Fae spellcasters vanished at the command. "Go to the mortal world and bring back the child. If anyone has the chance to succeed, it will be one who has already set foot in our world and returned to his own."

And the mind of a child would more easily accept the reality of the Fae realm, be less likely to resist, as would the minds of adults who had already molded their minds into believing their world to be the only one that existed.

Without another word, Jareth disappeared, but the sparkles he trailed behind him were brilliant diamonds of hope.

It took the others a moment to realize that Didymus had vanished at the same time.

* * *

_A/N: I'm baaack! Yes, just a short peep, but the end is near and I'll be uploading the rest within the next month, promise. Thank you for your patience during this long hiatus. Life gets in the way of writing sometimes._


	44. The Value of Noisy Children

**Sarah**

She did it! She knew she did it that time, that it could only have been her wish to see her grandmother's antique china setting on the table that brought it there. She'd been concentrating fiercely on the well-remembered items, the ones she'd tried to play tea-set with in all innocence when she was four and still lived with both her parents.

It had been the only time she'd been spanked, her tiny hand snatched away from the Valuable Family Antiques All The Way From England, as she remembered the scolding that had accompanied the spanking. Too Valuable To Be Touched By Small Children had also been part of the scolding, which had impressed itself upon her young mind as much as the spanking. And the pattern of the Never To Be Touched China was never to be forgotten, either, even though it had been packed away when her parents were divorced, kept in storage for whenever Mom settled down long enough to have the kind of household where it could once again hold pride of place in a china cabinet.

And now that well-remembered pattern, delicate blue and gold roses intertwined with soft green ivy around the edges, was in front of her: A dinner plate, a smaller dessert plate on top of it, a cup-and-saucer on top of them all, a rolled white napkin holding the glint of silverware on the left, a finger bowl and soup bowl to the right. One complete setting, just as she'd been trying to see on the plain wooden table-top.

She reached out with one finger, half-expecting the dishes to vanish beneath her touch, but no, they remained as solid and real as anything else around her.

Sarah gave a whoop of triumph as she snatched up the soup bowl and stared at it. "I did it," she said with a huge grin that quickly turned into a jaw-cracking yawn. "I really did it," she murmured as she laid the bowl back on the table and crawled onto her narrow cot. She'd really done it, and man, had it taken a lot out of her. She'd need to really rest up before trying her next trick: Getting herself out of her own mind and back in the real world.

**Jareth**

"Toby? Art thou awake, young master?"

The little boy squirmed beneath the superhero-bedecked comforter, mumbling in his sleep, not seeming to hear the softly calling voice.

Didymus looked uncertainly over his shoulder, then urged Ambrosias closer to the head of the boy's bed. Once they were head level, he reached out and gently shook the pajama-clad shoulder. "Hsst, Master Toby! I beg you, awaken!"

With a somewhat fuzzy snort, Toby did as he was asked, his eyes widening as they took in the sight of the strange being staring solemnly at him from the back of a large sheepdog who looked like the old pictures of Merlin in Sarah's room. "Uh, who're you?" he asked in a whisper, instinctively keeping his voice down…and showing no sign of fear at the sight of a talking fox riding on the back of a dog.

Jareth, hidden in the deepest shadows of the darkened bedroom, allowed himself a grim smile of satisfaction. Didymus had been the proper companion to bring on this mad quest, immediately charming the child rather than frightening him as Jareth suspected he himself would have done. Especially if any dim memories of Toby's time in the Underground remained.

Didymus was yapping away excitedly, explaining in his own, inimitable fashion how Toby's beloved older sister was held in cruel captivity by an evil Fae witch, now fortunately dead, and how he, Toby, was the only one who could save her.

For his part, Toby listened attentively, reaching down to pet Ambrosias between the ears as he listened, nodding solemnly as Didymus finished up with the all-important question: "Will you speed with us to your sister's side, young master?"

"I told Dad Yurp wasn't a good place for Sarah," the blonde haired, blue-eyed first grader pronounced. "I told him she should stay at school here." He slid out from beneath the covers, dropping to his knees and fumbling around beneath his bed. "Where's Sarah now?"

While Didymus yapped out a breathless and rather confused explanation of the dual nature of Sarah's imprisonment, Jareth watched from the shadows. His initial amusement turned quickly to admiration when the boy emerged clutching a large, heavy-duty flashlight and a baseball bat rather than the expected plastic sword. His admiration grew as the boy speedily shed pajama pants and top, hopping into a pair of sturdy jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweat-jacket bearing the logo of Sarah's university printed across the front. "What do I gotta do?" Toby asked, taking a firm grip on the bat while simultaneously clipping the flashlight to a loop in the waist of his jeans.

Now, Jareth decided, was the time to make his presence known. He stepped forward.

Toby's eyes went as round and wide as coins at the sight of the Goblin King. He froze for only a second before hefting the baseball bat in both hands and raising it over one shoulder in a threatening gesture. "Who're you?"

Jareth's admiration for the child only increased, in spite of the obvious inequity between their two selves. "Brave child," he murmured, "I am the Goblin King, come to escort you to your sister's side."

"Tis true, young Master!" Didymus yipped as Toby glanced at him uncertainly. "Tis the Goblin King himself, your sister's true love, come to bring you to her side and free her from her durance vile!"

Jareth kept his expression neutral, but his eyes glittered with irritation; he'd specifically told the idiot fox not to mention Jareth's own part in this situation until Sarah was freed. Still, what was done was done, and Toby showed no sign of caring one way or another about this revelation.

"What do I hafta do?" he repeated his earlier question.

Jareth stepped closer and knelt before the boy so they were at eye level. To his credit, Toby only flinched back the smallest half-step before holding his ground. "You must wish it with all your heart," the Goblin King replied. "You must wish to be at your sister's side, and only then can I take you to her." _And myself as well,_ Jareth thought but did not say aloud.

It all hinged on the boy's true heart, his courage, his spirit, his willingness to believe and in believing, free his sister.

Taking a deep breath, Toby blurted out the words Jareth needed to hear: "I wish the Goblin King would take me to be with my sister Sarah."

Seconds later, the room was empty, and Toby's oblivious parents slept on.

**oOo**

"Where'd that bloomin' idiot get off to now?" Hoggle muttered to himself, peering around to make sure Didymus and his yappy mount weren't just hiding under the bed or something. Nope, no sign of the furry duo, and Hoggle was certain the two of them had been pressed up against the invisible barrier keeping them from Sarah's solar just before Jareth left.

Hoggle's worried frown deepened. They'd vanished at the same time…was it possible the Goblin King had taken them with him? But why?

He considered to ponder the question, coming up blank no matter which angle he attacked it. And he certainly wasn't going to ask any of the high an' mighty Fae cloggin' up the room. Nor would it do any good to ask Ludo, the great lump; all he'd do would be to blink his eyes and make some sort of mournful noise and add to the general air of gloom all about them.

Before he could do more than turn his frown into a scowl, the Goblin King was back, Didymus and Ambrosias by his side, all three of them grinning like fools as they appeared in front of the entrance to Sarah's solar.

"That didn't take long, brother; why was your quest unsuccessful?" Lysira asked with a worried frown of her own.

"Unsuccessful? When I've brought her beloved brother to be by her side?" Jareth asked, answering her frown with a brilliant smile and her question with what appeared to be a riddle.

He stepped aside, revealing to all that Sarah was now joined by a young human boy with tousled blonde hair, a baseball bat in one hand, a flashlight in the other, both of which he promptly dropped to the floor as he rushed over to shake Sarah's shoulder.

"Isn't it usually a kiss that brings the fair maiden back to life?" Didymus queried, but Jareth shook his head and shushed to fox-like goblin impatiently.

"Just watch," he breathed, eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them all, fingertips pressed lightly against the invisible barrier that kept them still from Sarah's side. "T'will be over soon now, mark my words. The boy is the key." He wasn't simply offering up hope, either; he truly believed his words. One of the many things Elizabeta had held in contempt was the power of love, and one of the others was the abilities of mortals to overcome obstacles placed in their way by their own world, let alone that of the Fae.

The fact that the boy had appeared directly at Sarah's side offered a great deal of hope; how the Goblin King had circumvented Elizabeta's magic would no doubt be a matter of discussion once the immediate task at hand had been accomplished. But how, all watchers wondered, would the small human boy manage to wake his sister from her enchanted sleep?

By shaking her with increasing fervency, it would appear, then by calling her name louder and louder till he was virtually shouting in her ear, demanding that she wake up or she'd be late for school.

And all any of them could do was merely watch and hope.


	45. Great Expectations

**Sarah**

"Sarah! Get up! You're gonna be late again and you know how mad Dad gets when you miss the bus!"

Sarah started awake at the sound of that strident voice, eyes seeing for a moment not the stone walls of her prison but instead white walls, cheery curtains, a mirrored vanity…then it all vanished as quickly as it appeared, and once again she was surrounded by the trappings of Elizabeta's dungeon. "Toby?" Sarah called, swinging her legs over the side of her bed and cradling her midsection protectively.

She was positive it had been her Toby she heard, but when she looked around, she saw no sign of him, not even the echoes from his voice to tell her she hadn't merely been dreaming. _Dreaming inside a dream,_ she thought dismally as she sank back onto the bunk and lowered her head to her hands.

**Jareth**

"What's the boy doing?"

Jareth ignored his sister's whispered question, but Sir Didymus turned to her. "What he was brought her to do, my lady; to free his sister." Then he turned his unusually solemn face back to the room that was still forbidden to them all.

Toby had stopped shaking his sister and shouting at her, and instead had climbed up on the chair, wedging himself carefully next to her. He draped one arm over his shoulder and squirmed his way into a more comfortable position by her side, completely ignoring the strangers in the other room as he placed the baseball bat across their combined laps. When he seemed satisfied with his position, he rested his head on Sarah's shoulder and took her hand in his, gently stroking her fingers as he talked to her. "Sarah, come on, it's time to wake up. The fox guy said I have to wake you up, like a princess in those stories you like to tell me, remember?"

Jareth leaned forward, resting one hand lightly against the invisible barrier that still kept him from Sarah's side, his face giving away none of his disappointment that he hadn't been able to enter the room with Toby. He'd hoped…ah, but that was in the past. At least the boy had made it where he wished to be, and with luck would manage to break the spell Sarah was under.

As he watched, Toby's eyes grew heavier and his words quieter and quieter, until, with a suddenness that would have startled Jareth had he not been hoping to see something like it happen, he was asleep, head still on his sister's shoulder, fingers entwined with hers.

Behind the Goblin King, a collective groan went up from the goblin continent; the Fae were far too well-bred to show their disappointment in such a crude manner. Well, except for his sister; he felt the hiss of her breath against his ear as she craned forward to look over his shoulder. "Is the boy now under the same spell cast upon his sister?" she asked, laying one hand lightly on his back to steady herself. Or comfort him; it was hard to tell.

Jareth shook his head, keeping his attention sharply focused on the boy.

On their only hope.

**Sarah**

"Sarah?"

This time the voice was undeniably that of her brother, and when she looked up, she blinked, hard, then shook her head, positive what she was seeing was only an illusion. "Toby?"

He was standing in front of her, a baseball bat in one hand and a flashlight dangling from a loop on his faded blue jeans, hair mussed and standing up the way it always looked when he just got out of bed. He was looking around the small, damp chamber, upper lip curled in an expression of disgust. "This place is gross."

Sarah continued to sit on the edge of the bunk, staring at the apparition before her. It certainly looked and acted like her little brother, but then, why shouldn't it? It was most likely conjured by her imagination, like all the other little changes she'd effected in her mental prison. Now, more than ever, she _knew_ it was her mind holding her prisoner; it had to be. "Yeah, it's gross," she agreed, not moving. "But we're not going anywhere, squirt." It comforted her, this figment of her imagination, and she spoke to it the same way she would have if it was really her brother standing there.

However, she lost quite a bit of her certainty when the small figure dashed across the room and almost bowled her over with the enthusiasm of his hug. "Sarah, come on! You need to wake up and come with me!" Then, in a shier voice, with his head buried in her shoulder: "I missed you so much. I told Dad going to Yurp would stink. This place is even worse."

Sarah's arms tightened around her brother's form. "Toby?" she whispered, still not quite believing he was really there. But then, if was real, then maybe this place was, too? She felt confused, almost light-headed, and reluctantly pushed him away from her so she could catch her breath. "Toby, are you really here? How?"

"The Goblin King brought me," he replied in such a matter-of-face voice that Sarah found herself believing him. "Cept he brought me to where you're sleeping in a chair, and then I think I fell asleep, too, and now I'm here with you, but we hafta leave cause the fox guy's waiting for us and he said the Goblin King's your true love, is he really?"

Yep, that was pure Toby, a million breathless questions and statements at once. Sarah laughed and pulled him back for another hug, while he squirmed in her embrace, semi-embarrassed now that the first rush of emotion from their meeting had passed. "Yes, Toby, he is. If I ever doubted it before, I know it now." She kissed him on the forehead and he wiggled his way completely free, making a face. She laughed again and allowed him to tug her to her feet. "So, my gallant knight, how do you propose we free ourselves from this wretched prison?"

Instinctively her voice settled into the cadence of storytelling, and Toby's eyes lit up at the familiar formula. "Dunno," he replied, staring up at her trustingly. "Wish it?"

Wish it. Of course, how simple! Not that she hadn't wished it before, but always with a tinge of despair coloring her thoughts, drowning out the hope in her heart and killing her belief in herself. But with Toby here…maybe, just maybe, they could manage it together.

Holding both his hands clasped in hers, she instructed him to close his eyes. He obeyed instantly, and she did so as well. "Now what to do we do?" he asked in a whisper, a shiver of anticipation passing over his body and communicating itself to his sister, who found herself shivering as well.

"Now we concentrate really hard on getting out of here and back to the room where we're sleeping," she replied, her voice solemn. "We wish with all our hearts, with all our might, we wish for freedom from this foul imprisonment, we wish to break the spell cast on us by the evil enchantress, we wish, we wish, we WISH!"

The last word was shouted by the two of them together, and Sarah felt a strange tingling sensation over her entire body. Toby seemed to feel it, too, for he gave a small yelp of surprise, but never let go of her hands, his grip firm and sure in hers. Letting go, Sarah knew (but how?) would break their concentration, would destroy the moment and leave them stuck in enchanted sleep forever.

When the tingling passed, she risked opening her eyes, and gasped with stunned pleasure as she saw, not the cold stone walls of her dark prison cell, but the warmth and brightness of her solar.

She looked down and saw Toby staring up at her with a wide grin on his face. "We did it!" he crowed, bouncing up from the chair they'd been sharing. He danced around the room. "We did it!" he shouted again, laughing with delight.

Sarah's gaze was drawn toward the entrance to her private room, and she immediately locked eyes with Jareth. Trembling with anticipation, she rose to her feet, one hand resting automatically on her mid-section as she made her stumbling way toward the Goblin King, still trapped on the other side of the entrance. "Sorry, Jareth," she whispered when she was close enough to touch him. "I slept here overnight. I hope you don't hold it against me."

"Only if you continue to forbid me entrance," he replied, in the gentlest tone she'd ever heard from him.

She smiled tremulously and took a step back. "By all means, come in."

* * *

_A/N: Yes, I'm mean, ending it where I did. But hey, at least I updated, right? Right? Only two or three chapters left, I think, before this epic finally winds down. I know you'll tell me what you think, and I thank you for all your comments. Well, except the flames. Don't like those, but who does?_


	46. Wake Up Sex

_**Warning: Sex, and lots of it.**_

* * *

**Two Weeks Later (Day 255) **

When Sarah looked back on that night, she counted it as one of the happiest of her life, bar none. Hearing that Elizabeta was dead by her own hand—apparently a crime almost unknown among the Fae except in extreme cases of age or incurable illness—sobered her for only a moment. She couldn't be happy at anyone's death, even as implacable and ruthless and enemy as the Fae woman had proven to be, but she couldn't exactly mourn her, either.

Besides, there was too much to be happy about. Seeing Toby, being able to hug and talk to and tease her younger brother, reminded her how much she'd missed him. _Him_, not home, a thought that brought her up short. Seeing Toby should have made her homesick, impatient to return to the life Jareth had interrupted, but it hadn't. Seeing Toby only made her happy— almost as happy as when Jareth had stepped into her solar and taken her in his arms for a long, satisfying kiss. Then he'd graciously allowed all her other friends to surround her, babbling with relief at her rescue. Even Lysira had offered her a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead before murmuring an excuse and leaving with the other Fae in the room, none of whom Sarah recognized.

From her comfortable position in bed, head propped up on a mound of pillows and Jareth sleeping quietly next to her, Sarah closed her eyes and sighed with contentment. Her thoughts continued to drift backwards over the events of the night of her release, and she smiled in fond remembrance of the impromptu party that had spread throughout the castle as news of her rescue had reached even the farthest reaches of the Labyrinth. Chef even deigned to leave the kitchens in order to bring her the pizza he'd finally perfected. It was perfect, from cheese to sauce to crust, and she and Toby had devoured it hungrily while the others took doubtful nibbles before declaring themselves full—all but Ambrosias, who happily chowed down the slice he was offered.

Sarah had become so used to her life in the Underground that she hadn't thought to worry about Toby until Jareth managed to shoo everyone else out of the bedchamber. She'd settled onto the rug in front of the fireplace, where her brother was sitting, staring at the flames as if entranced.

It was only then that she began to worry that her brother might be even more overwhelmed than she was at everything that had happened…

"_Toby? You OK, buddy?" _

_Sarah tried to mask the worry in her voice; her brother was so quiet, sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees and his attention fully captured by the dancing flames in front of him. Had he been that quiet earlier and she just hadn't noticed? Some big sister she was…_

_But no, he turned to her with a huge grin. "Sarah, this is even cooler than the stories you told me. You know," he added with an attempt at grown-up nonchalance. "The ones you used to tell me when I was little."_

_She held back a laugh at his words, electing instead to sweep him into her arms for a long, heart-felt hug. "Thank you, little brother," she whispered, holding him long enough to plant a kiss on his cheek even as he squirmed his way free._

"_Gee, Sarah you're awful kissy today," he said, making a face, and Sarah's fears for his state of mind completely melted away. Then he poked her belly. "And you're getting fat. You been eating too much pizza here?"_

_Sarah froze at the unexpected question, which she _should_ have expected; after all, Toby was an observant and inquisitive little boy._

_Before she could even attempt to stammer out an explanation, Jareth knelt down next to the two of them. "You've met Chef, young man; do you think such a creature would NOT feed us to surfeit?"_

_Toby frowned, probably wondering what "surfeit" meant, but before he could offer another comment or ask a question, Jareth made a high-pitched whistling noise and rose to his feet again. "Perhaps you would care to explore the castle while your sister recovers from her ordeal," he suggested, although to Sarah's ears it was more in the nature of an order._

_Toby's eyes lit up at the prospect. "Wow! Does it have dungeons?"_

_Sarah frowned; she'd had more than enough of dungeons to last her a lifetime, and didn't care to be reminded of the situation her friends had been in when she first returned to the Underground. Still, it was natural; Toby was a boy and boys loved all kinds of creepy things, especially when they'd been fed a steady diet of fairy tales their entire lives. So Sarah only had herself to blame for him zeroing in on the one place she never wanted to see again._

_Still, it wasn't like she could say no to Toby, not after he'd been so brave and smart in helping to save her. So she merely mustered up a smile and a nod of permission when he glanced at her, begging with his eyes to be able to take the offered tour. And when Sihve popped his head through the entrance tapestry a moment later, she relaxed even further. The tiny goblin-changeling was the perfect escort for Toby; non-threatening, sweet natured, and incredibly patient. Even Didymus would have been second choice had Sarah been given the option._

"_Don't forget to bring Toby to the library to meet the Bookworms," Sarah called after them, holding the tapestry up with one hand and watching as they sped down the corridor._

_After the two youngsters had vanished, Sarah dropped the tapestry and turned back to face Jareth, who was still standing near the fireplace. "We have to figure out how to handle things now that Toby's here," she began, only to find herself wrapped in Jareth's warm embrace, without ever having seen him move. He kissed her, silencing any protests, and swept her into his arms._

"_Later, love," he whispered as he carried her to the bed. "Toby can wait; I, I fear, cannot."_

_In spite of his words, he didn't simply make their clothes vanish, or even tear them from her body in a frenzy. Instead he slowly disrobed her, unhooking every button on the back of her gown, trailing his fingers down her spine and raising shivers from head to toe. He went to work on the tiny buttons holding the ends of her sleeves closed, planting gentle kisses on the insides of her wrists after undoing each one, raising more goose-bumps with every brush of his lips against her skin. Sarah sighed with pleasure, only once to hurry him along. He stilled her with a kiss and a searing look that promised so much she could only shiver again, this time in purest anticipation._

_Once her outer gown was removed he went to work on her underclothes, allowing her to start the process of removing his own clothing, although she fumbled the catches a bit as desire made her fingers clumsy. She was already naked and still trying to remove his trousers when his lips found the nape of her neck, trailing downward till his mouth rested against the flutter of her pulse. He gave the spot just the slightest nip of his teeth. With that, she gave up on the trousers as a lost cause, knowing her fingers could never manage the stupid clasps now._

_She allowed Jareth to lay her back on the velvety red-and-gold coverlet, then watched through half-lidded eyes as he slithered out of his tight trousers, dropping them carelessly to the floor to join the rest of their clothing. His boots he must have vanished away magically since she never saw him bend down to remove them, but she was beyond caring about anything beyond her anticipation of the next touch of her body. He leaned over her on hands and knees, lowering his head to press a reverent kiss to her mid-section. The baby moved as if feeling his touch, and he kissed her stomach again before bringing his lips up to meet hers in hungry kiss she wished would never end._

_She raised her arms to pull him closer; with a teasing smile, he resisted her hands, instead returning his attention to her the column of her throat, leaving a line of nips and kisses behind as he made his leisurely way to her breasts. She sucked in her breath as he eagerly took first one nipple and then the other into his mouth, by turns gentle and heated as he licked and sucked her into a state of delirium. She'd heard that pregnant women could be extra sensitive; now, she was feeling it for herself. Or was it just that it had been so long since Jareth had touched her like this?_

_She didn't know and didn't care. All thought fled as he continued downward, stopping at the apex of legs and torso and favoring her with a wicked smile before once again lowering his head, raining kisses on her inner thighs and bringing her to a frenzy of need. With a growl worthy of any goblin, she reached down and tangled her fingers in his hair. "God, Jareth, please," she gasped, and at last he relented, pressing his lips and tongue against her body's most sensitive spot._

_She came immediately, legs bucking, crying out in ecstasy as he continued to taste her, to prolong the moment. When finally he released her, she simply lay there, panting, as he moved up so he was stretched out next to her, stroking her forehead and kissing the side of her neck._

_When she finally stopped shaking from the intensity of her orgasm, she turned to gaze into his eyes, a contented smile curling her lips. He seemed to take that as a signal to pounce; suddenly he was on top her, his knee urging her legs apart, his mouth taking hers in a greedy kiss that immediately rekindled her desire. His arms were around her, his fingers twining themselves into her hair as the kiss deepened and she willingly opened her legs to allow him entry._

_He drove into with an urgency that belied his earlier patience, and she cried out, raking her fingernails down his back—not deep enough to draw blood, but surely there would be scratches. And she didn't care; he was _hers_, she was marking him, just as his lightest touch marked her as his—now, and forever._

_In that moment, she knew she would never leave the Underground for more than short-term visits. The situation with Toby would be worked out, her parents and Karen would be given some explanation, and she and her child would enter the ranks of the Fae._

_With that knowledge she abandoned herself fully to Jareth's touch, immersing herself in their combined need for one another. And it wasn't just the mind-blowing sex they needed; it was each other, their whole selves, body, mind, and spirit. She might never fully understand the Fae even after being made one of them, but she was content in her growing knowledge of the Goblin King._

_Her lover, and her love. _

"Sarah? Where did you go just now?"

She rolled over and looked at Jareth with a mischievous smile. "Guess," she said, her smile widening.

"Hmm, perhaps it was somewhere…like this?" He brushed his lips against hers, pressing her into the pillows. She welcomed his touch, aroused as much by the memories she'd just relived as by his actual presence, and didn't hesitate to tell him so, whispering her desire into his ear and reveling in the shivers her words and touch sent over his lean, muscular frame.

"Perhaps next time I'll travel there with you, love, to the night you decided you would stay with me forever as my wife," he whispered in reply to her words, reaching for her hand and kissing every finger in turn, then pressing his fevered lips against her palm. She gasped as she felt the tip of his tongue dart out and touch briefly against her hand; every time she thought she'd seen all of his moves, he found some other way to arouse her.

Ways she never would have imagined, and looked forward to discovering as they continued their lives together.

Her stomach was larger than it had been even two weeks ago, and she laughingly allowed him to roll her over on top of him so she straddled his hips. Her breasts had gotten much more tender, too, but not so sensitive that he couldn't still elicit groans of pleasure from her as she leaned forward and allowed him to brush his lips across her nipples. She wriggled her hips, watching as his eyes darkened with desire, and felt the length of him swelling and hardening beneath her groin. Good to know she still had it even though she felt about as big as a whale now, never mind how huge she'd be in another five months.

"Pregnancy agrees with you, my dear," Jareth purred, as if reading her thoughts. His fingers traced a delicate pattern across her mid-section. "I'll have to make sure and get you with child as often as possible."

Sarah blushed at the thought, which seemed silly considering their nudity and relative positions, but the thought of having another baby when she was still only half-way through her first pregnancy seemed a bit too forward thinking for her current mood. Not to mention nerve-wracking; she was dreading the labor and delivery part of all this, even if the Fae healers promised soothing herbs and ointments to ease her child's path into the world.

The feel of Jareth's fingers on her hips distracted her from her sudden flutter of panic, replacing it with flutters of quite a different sort as he raised her effortlessly upwards, just enough to allow him to slide into her. "Mmmm," she murmured as he lowered her back onto his hips, squirming just enough to show her appreciation of his new position and eliciting a growl of pleasure from her partner. He thrust upwards and she arched her back before joining in, meeting his upward thrusts with downward motions of her own, each increasing the rhythm as their need became more urgent, as breaths shortened into pants and gasps, as sweat raised itself on their enjoined bodies and glistened in the morning light.

As always seemed to happen these past few weeks, they reached fulfillment within seconds of each other, Sarah slightly ahead, her pleasure fueling his own. Then it was over, need satisfied, and she collapsed against his chest, reveling in the feel of his heartbeat thudding in frenzied time with her own.

"A girl could get used to this," she whispered as she rolled over next to him, nestling close for their usual post-coital snuggling. Jareth's eyes were already half-lidded as sleep once again overcame him, and she felt her own eyes closing as her heart slowly returned to its normal speed. He reached over and laced his fingers through hers, and they slept the morning away.


	47. Wedded Blitz

**Four and a Half Months Later (The Afternoon of Day 366)**

"Is she ready?"

Before Jareth could speak, Sarah's voice came from the curtained antechamber to his left. "Yes, all set, coming!"

Breathlessly she made her way through the heavy damask-like curtains that sheltered her from public view, and Jareth felt his own breath leave him at the sight of her.

She was dazzlingly beautiful, dressed in silver and white from head to toe, colors that had always favored her dark hair and eyes and light complexion. She'd deliberately chosen to evoke what she still referred to as her "peach dream" dress, although the waistline had been significantly altered to accommodate the baby.

In spite of the awkwardness of her gait and increased girth, he'd never found her more beautiful and promptly told her so with such fervency it brought a blush to her cheeks and a smile to Lysira's impassive features.

"Tell me again why we had to wait until the last day of our deal before we could do this?" Sarah whispered as Jareth offered her his arm and Lysira fell into place as their official escort to the ceremony that awaited them.

"Because it proves you do this not out of any sense of obligation but because you wish it. Thus the timing of the ceremony to the exact moment our bargain expires," he replied out of the side of his mouth. Lysira looked over her shoulder disapprovingly, then snapped her head around so she faced straight forward once again, her rigid posture a less-than-subtle reminder of how Jareth and Sarah were supposed to be posed themselves.

Sarah made a face and stuck her tongue out behind Lysira's back, then quickly schooled her expression into the coolly distant façade she was supposed to be presenting, in spite of the butterflies in her stomach. Amazing how the little beasties could still find room to move since they were basically squished up against her spine.

She stole a glance at her husband-to-be. If Jareth was as nervous as she was, he was certainly doing a great job of hiding it, she thought with a certain amount of petulance as she paced slowly down the long, narrow corridor that led to the Fae King's throne room, where the ceremony was to take place. Of course, he wasn't the one about to be Elevated, so the only risk he was facing was emotional.

Which was bad enough, Sarah told herself sternly. The baby kicked vigorously, as if in agreement, and she placed her free hand over her bulging stomach and tried to soothe "OB", as she continued to call the little unknown inside her, back into sleep-mode. Or at least "not kicking" mode.

Jareth watched his intended from the corner of his eye, not allowing so much as a lip twitch to indicate how amused he was by her obvious discomfort. Not that he reveled in other's pain…well, not very often, at least. But hers, never.

Well, he amended with a silent chuckle, hardly ever. This time, however, she'd brought it all on herself. She'd agreed to everything that was about to take place, claimed to anticipate it all, and yet, once faced with the actual event, she reverted, as she generally did whilst in a panic, almost back to the petulant child he'd first become enamored of.

"It will be all right, Sweet," he murmured, risking Lysira's wrath by speaking as they neared the end of the corridor. He squeezed Sarah's hand, and she squeezed it back a bit harder than was probably necessary, another sign of impending panic.

He only hoped she would remember everything she had to do and say, and in the proper sequence. After the ceremony mistakes and social gaffes would be more readily forgiven by his fellow Fae, including his parents, but not before then. It was why Lysira, normally so free-spirited and as eager to avoid courtly obligations as her brother, had turned virtually overnight into a fretful mother-hen, obsessed with protocol and making sure Sarah got everything perfect. She knew what was at stake; the one thing they'd never revealed to Sarah, and likely never would, was the fact that if something went wrong, then Sarah gave up all rights to her child once it was born, and she would be returned Aboveground with her memories altered.

An outcome none of Jareth's family wanted to see happen, but that many of the more conservative Fae no doubt secretly hoped for.

They paused in front of the oversized wooden doors, and Lysira looked over her shoulder, this time to confirm that they were ready. Jareth squeezed Sarah's hand again, and she nodded, her lips thinned to a tight line, her eyes so wide she looked almost owlish. He wished he could offer her that comparison, especially knowing how she liked to tease him about his Barn Owl form, but held his tongue. The time for encouragement and humor was past; from the moment the doors in front of them opened until the ceremony was completed, he could not merely be the Goblin King, Sarah's lover and father of her child. He was at this point only to be seen as the heir to the Fae Throne, son of Oberon and Titania.

He nodded regally to his sister, she turned back to the doors and struck them lightly with the willow staff she carried in one hand, and they opened.

**oOo**

The first thing Sarah noticed was the silence. The last time she'd been in the royal audience chamber, it had been a hum of noise, a blur of color, overwhelming her senses and leaving her with only the vaguest of impressions.

This time, the colors were as bright, the crowd as large, but the silence made it seem somewhat eerie, the stillness making her feel as if she'd stepped into a portrait rather than a real place filled with real people…real Fae people, she reminded herself as her eyes picked out an antlered figure with distinctly deer-like features but standing upright and with hands showing at the ends of his sleeved arms.

Then the silence was broken by a small voice piping up: "Sarah, you look just like a fairy princess!"

That broke the spell, and she smiled down at her brother as he ran up to take her hand in his, smiling up at her with an expression of pure joy. "And you look like a prince," she whispered back, protocol be damned, her eyes filling with tears of joy as she gazed at him.

He did, too, in a little pair of knickers and white stockings and buckled shoes and an 18th century style royal blue jacket over a spotless white shirt and cravat. Only his hair remained the same, a blonde thatch that reminded her in many ways of her husband-to-be's own hair, meticulously groomed as it might be today but generally…wasn't.

Jareth looked just as glorious in similar clothing, black and white instead of blue and white, but he wasn't smiling and Sarah remembered that they weren't supposed to speak until given leave by the High King. Eyes widening in concern, she looked toward the throne, only to find Oberon beaming down at them paternally and gesturing them forward.

Apparently remembering his own role, Toby's expression grew serious as he tugged Sarah's hand and led her down the golden cloth defining her path to the High King's throne. Jareth had vanished and reappeared by his father's side, as had Lysira, and Titania completed the royal grouping as she appeared to her daughter's right.

Things became much less clear after that moment. Later she would remember arriving at the raised dais where her future husband and in-laws stood, but not traversing the long and winding path that led there. She would remember Toby clearly and firmly speaking as her family representative since her father and mother hadn't been able to handle the concept of Sarah's fairly land being real and having their memories removed of their one short-lived visit to the Goblin King's castle. Toby, on the other hand, was likely to be a more than frequent visitor now that he knew he could talk Sir Didymus into bringing him here anytime he wanted.

She remembered Didymus, Ludo, and Hoggle all being given places of honor, their own term of punishment over with the end of her year-and-a-day, beaming at her proudly as she pledged her troth to the Goblin King and became his bride.

Of the Elevation ceremony, however, she remembered little and half-hoped it would stay that way, like an Impressionist painting: a blur of ceremonial chanting and hints of cinnamon and lavender in the air, bright colors and cool, misty air hovering all around her with its own unknown source of light permeating the entire room. Beautiful, elusive, and unforgettable in outline if not in details.

Then it was all over, and she and her baby were pronounced members of the Fae, and the celebrations began with a roar of congratulations from the gathered crowd; Jareth kissed her so tenderly, her father-in-law kissed her as if he was the groom (no, not uncomfortable at all, that moment), Lysira and Titania pressed kisses to her cheeks and forehead, and Toby hugged her, laughing with delight the entire time.

All in all, no matter how much or how little of it she actually remembered she knew one thing: it was the best day of her life.

**oOo**

"Thank God that's over with!"

Jareth, who had been bending down to steal a kiss from his bride's lips, paused, mouth tightening in irritation. "Not quite the reaction I was expecting, especially considering how happy you seemed only moments ago."

Sarah raised a trembling hand to her forehead. "Jareth, I love you, but sometimes you can be completely dense. I don't mean our wedding, I meant the whole Elevation thing. In case you haven't noticed, I've been a nervous wreck for the past month. And now it's over with and I can finally relax and enjoy myself." Especially knowing that Toby was safely at home, with Didymus firmly admonished NOT to bring the boy back to the party no matter how much he begged. Sarah was going to do her best to keep her younger brother's future visits on her schedule rather than his, even though she knew in her heart she'd already lost that battle. At least Didymus was dazzled enough by her current Elevation to be obedient for the evening.

Jareth's shoulders shook with silent laughter and he enfolded her carefully in his arms. "Truly? You think now you can relax?"

"Why can't I?" Sarah demanded, extracting herself from his embrace with some difficulty, since he had no desire to release her. She glared up at him suspiciously. "Why not?"

"Because, sweet, you are now the bride of the Goblin King, the heir to the Fae Throne…"

"Yeah," she interrupted him. "I know all that. And I have tons of stuff to learn and things to do…but not until after the baby's born. I already spoke to your parents about that, at the reception."

A reception that had lasted what seemed to Sarah like days…and was still going on, according to Jareth, even though the bride and groom had left over an hour ago. Of course there wasn't going to be much of a honeymoon until well after OB made his or her arrival, but still, it was nice to be alone, just the two of them…or it had been until they started "having words", as her mother used to put it.

Jareth raised an eyebrow, a favorite expression of his. "You spoke to my parents about your duties?"

Sarah nodded and started to lower herself into the nearest chair when something caught her eye and brought her back to her feet. Flashing Jareth a surprised look, she walked over to the wall that held the tapestry covering the entry to her solar. Next to it was a new tapestry. She rushed up to examine it, a wide grin spreading across her face as she realized exactly what doorway it covered.

Whirling to face her husband as he came up close behind her, she took him into an impulsive embrace. "Oh, Jareth!"

He encircled her with his arms, not at all displeased by her reaction. "Hush, love, you've not even seen the room itself," he chided her, but with a smile playing about the corners of his lips and lighting up his mismatched eyes. "Perhaps you'll not find Goblin taste in baby furnishings to your liking."

"If the tapestry is any kind of hint, I'll find at least something to love about it," Sarah retorted, craning her head on her neck to once again examine the hanging.

The background was a forest of soft greens and gentle golds, with hints of blue and pink here and there. But the main subject of the tapestry was children and babies: Mothers with babes-in-arms; fathers, tossing delighted children up in the air, arms waiting to catch them again; cradles stitched in such exquisite detail Sarah fancied she could trace the woods' grain, even a Victorian wicker stroller in one corner that caught her eye by its very incongruity.

Exulting in her delight, Jareth quietly reached out and drew the tapestry aside so Sarah could enter the nursery itself.

For just a moment she was put off-balance by what seemed to be double-vision; a beautiful room with all the furnishings any baby—or at least, any baby's mother—could want, superimposed over a dark, dank room filled with black hangings, wrought iron furnishings, straw on the floor… She blinked to clear her eyes, then turned and punched Jareth in the arm. "Very funny!"

When she looked back, the Addam's family version of a nursery had vanished, to be replaced by the sunny room she first thought she'd seen. There were windows on every wall, including the wall that should have been the divide between the nursery and her solar, cheerful wall hangings in shades of yellow and green, and a very inviting-looking rocking chair with a well padded seat and back that Sarah immediately availed herself of.

"Do you like it?"

Sarah offered Jareth a radiant smile. "I love it!" The cradle was of burnished oak, nearly golden in color, with inlays that actually were of gold decorating its sides and top. She reached down and touched the green blanket, sighing at the softness of the material. "It's perfect," Sarah whispered, a glimmer of tears on her eyelashes. Jareth bent down to kiss her, all thoughts of quarreling over her royal duties forgotten as he showed her the room's many treasures; the antique dresser, the much more modern changing table that had been added onto an old-fashioned dry sink, the rocking horse that had been Jareth's own as a child and would magically gallop about the room when their baby was old enough to ride it…on and on, until Sarah laughingly told Jareth she'd seen enough for one day. "I'll have to explore it when I'm a little less…" A huge yawn interrupted her words, and she covered her mouth in mortification. "Sorry, guess I'm a little worn out."

"And no wonder," Jareth responded, instantly appearing back at her side. "You should rest, my dear. We have the rest of eternity to spend together, there's no need for me to overwhelm you with all this. I simply wanted to surprise you."

"And you did," Sarah said with a tender smile, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "I love it. I love you." He leaned down further and kissed her. She returned the kiss, but her thoughts remained on his words. An eternity to spend together. She was no longer mortal, and that was going to take a great deal of getting used to. That and the fact that she and her baby would each have their own magical abilities. How either would manifest remained to be seen, but already Sarah felt as if the weight of her advanced pregnancy had lessened, as if she'd become more buoyant somehow, lighter on her feet even when plodding along with her stomach clearing the way ahead of her.

"I love you, too," Jareth said, moving gracefully to sit on the floor at her feet, resting his head on what remained of her lap and closing his eyes in pure contentment. Surely life could get no sweeter than this moment?

Sarah reached down and stroked his hair, smiling as she did so. She rested her head against the cushioned back of the rocking chair and closed her own eyes, finding herself on the edge of drowsiness and no less content than Jareth.

"My, my, such a touching domestic portrait."

They looked up, startled, at the sound of that unexpected voice, and were stunned into immobility for a crucial moment, twin expressions of disbelief on their faces as they recognized the speaker—and their minds rejected that recognition.

Smiling mockingly, Elizabeta stood before them. "Time to pay the piper," she crooned, and in a flash both she and Sarah had vanished.

* * *

_A/N: Surprised? So was I! I honestly thought this was going to be the "happily ever after" chapter, but then I realized, hey, Elizabeta died waaayy too easily...and that made me suspicious. Was she really dead? Guess we'll find out in the next chapter or three!_


	48. Sweet Revenge

**Whereabouts Unknown**

"Let me go!"

Elizabeta regarded Sarah thoughtfully as the younger girl wrenched herself free from the Fae woman's grasp. "My, you're a demanding creature, aren't you. It's a wonder Jareth has any patience for you at all." Her gaze lowered to Sarah's protruding stomach and a sneer creased her face into an unpleasant mask. "Oh, that's right. You carry his child. That explains so very, very much."

"He loved me before I got pregnant," Sarah retorted hotly, her temper getting the better of her in spite of the tiny voice in the back of her mind that reminded her it might not be a good idea to piss off a powerful Fae witch who'd successfully faked her own death in front of the King of the Fae. And who'd shown herself not to be willing and able to break even the most sacred Fae laws in the past. And who'd dragged her out of Jareth's very castle, from under his aristocratic nose, and into this…this…where were, they anyway?

Sarah spared a second to take in their surroundings. A dungeon. Of course, how original. Stone walls, high, narrow windows, manacles and a noisome bed of straw in one corner…presumably her new and improved prison. She narrowed her eyes as she returned her attention to Elizabeta. "He loved me before I got pregnant," Sarah repeated in a low, dangerous voice, some other inner voice spurring her on, the words coming almost on their own. "And that kills you, doesn't it. That he never loved you the way he loves me, and it was never about our baby." Her hands caressed her stomach in slow, deliberate motions meant to taunt as much as her words, even though she wasn't conscious of the movement, every ounce of her attention focused on her enemy. "Even though he loves the baby just as much as he loves me, he would have loved me even if I never got pregnant."

Elizabeta's expression didn't change, but there was a subtle shift in her posture, one Sarah as a mortal would never have noticed. But she'd been Elevated and now she saw so much more than she had before. Elizabeta's jealousy and hatred of Sarah and her baby radiated from her in a noxious green and gold aura, intertwined with black spirals of twisted rage and foiled ambition. How Sarah could interpret the emanations she never stopped to question, just as she never questioned the correctness of that interpretation; it simply was, and she accepted it.

Accepted that, but would never again accept being held captive by this Fae bitch. She might not be as experienced in wielding magic as her resurrected foe, but she'd damn well give her run for her money.

"I never loved Jareth, nor did I ever mourn his lack of affection for me," Elizabeta replied in a haughty voice, but Sarah heard the lie even as her aura fairly vibrated with the strength of it. "Twas never about love, you stupid child, it was ever and always about power. And revenge." Her expression became openly gloating. "Which I now have attained. You and your brat will serve quite well as engines of that vengeance."

"Let me guess," Sarah said in a bored voice as she leaned against the wall behind her, pretending not to care about the slimy dampness that covered its surface. "You're going to force Oberon to abdicate in your favor or you'll kill one or both of us. And if he refuses, you'll do just that and go straight for open warfare, your twisted forces against the rest of the Fae. And if you go down, you'll damn well take as many of them with you as you can. Something like that, right?"

While Sarah spoke, Elizabeta's face underwent a series of changes in expression that even a mortal could read; disdain, uneasiness, a dawning uncertainty that swiftly became anger and hatred and just a whiff of fear. Her nostrils flared as she sucked in a breath before demanding: "How do you do this? How do you read what is in my mind in such detail? No one, not even a true Fae could do such a thing, much less a mere Elevated mortal such as yourself!"

Sarah shrugged. "I've always been different; so sue me. Or better yet, let me go while you slink off to whatever hole you can find in hopes of escaping Oberon and Jareth. Because you know they're looking for us right now, and whatever plans you and your rebels have for them are going straight down the toilet." She straightened herself, noting in the corner of her mind that the sleeve of her gown wasn't soiled or damp, and that the wall behind her seemed to have covered itself with a tapestry of some kind while she and Elizabeta had been verbally sparring.

Elizabeta noticed the change in well; she started to speak, then frowned and twitched an eyebrow. Sarah chanced a look over her shoulder, and was struck by the vivid colors of the tapestry, the design one of dragons and warriors locked in battle. Daring a closer look, her eyes widened as she saw that the warriors within her view were all dark-haired women wielding various weapons of war…and the dragons were all wounded or dead. She turned back to Elizabeta with a smirk, mouth open to offer up yet another snarky comment when she felt a sudden wave of debilitating weakness wash over her.

As she slowly slid down the tapestry-covered wall, she stared up at Elizabeta with true alarm in her voice and eyes. "Wh-what are you doing?"

The Fae woman's eyes, already over-large in her delicate face, seemed even larger, glowing with a luminosity that would have blinded a mortal and caused even Sarah's newly enhanced eyes to blink and water. In the back of her mind she felt the tapestry stir and vanish beneath her shoulders, replaced once more by the cold dankness of the dungeon's uneven stone wall.

"Draining you," Elizabeta replied in a matter-of-fact tone that chilled even more than the cold surface on which Sarah now rested. "Absorbing all that lovely new energy the Oberon so foolishly imbued you and your half-breed brat with. A pity it will kill you both, but then, the child should never have been conceived in the first place." She smiled, a cold smile, a triumphant smile…that quickly turned into a grimace as the brilliant luminosity of her eyes suddenly flickered and dimmed. "Wh-what…" she stammered, much as Sarah had only seconds before. Then it was her turn to slump backwards, stumbling over the yards of silvery fabric in which she was swathed, her turn to collapse to the floor as wave after wave of weakness slammed into her.

Before her unbelieving eyes, Sarah had risen to her feet; more than that, she was hovering over the Fae woman, her eyes glowing much as Elizabeta's had been only seconds before, but with a deep silver luminescence, as if twin moons had replaced Sarah's eyes. "No one tries to hurt my baby!" Sarah roared in a voice like a waterfall, a hurricane, a force of nature, furious and calm at the same time.

Incredibly, Elizabeta felt a whimper escape her throat as she felt the magic being ripped from her by this high-flown snippet of a mortal. This was impossible, it couldn't be happening, there had to be something she could do to stop it…

Sarah gazed implacably down at her foe as she cowered on the cold stone dungeon floor. Elizabeta deserved whatever it was Sarah was doing to her, although she only dimly perceived the mechanics of the spell she was using to counter the other woman's attempt to steal her magic from her. She watched expressionlessly as Elizabeta writhed and contorted and fought with every ounce of her being the steady drain of power, tried desperately to stem the flow, but it was she who had opened the conduit between them in the first place, and it was she who had inadvertently shown Sarah how that conduit could be closed…or reversed. It was as if Sarah had spent her entire life blind, only to miraculously have her vision restored; dazzling, overwhelming if she let it be, and beautiful.

With one final moan, Elizabeta rolled onto her side and lay perfectly still. Sarah felt herself slowly sinking back to the floor, her feet touching down as lightly as if she'd levitated every day of her life and knew how to make the perfect landing from long practice. She nudged Elizabeta's inert form with one toe, then shrank back with a gasp as the body suddenly collapsed, dissolving into a heap of glittering black dust before her very eyes.

She should have been horrified at what she'd done, but all she felt was a grim sense of accomplishment. Not quite satisfaction; she was still compassionate enough not revel in anyone's death, even that of someone who'd quite deliberately tried to kill her and her unborn child, but there was no regret, either. "Good," she said to no one in particular when even the dust had vanished. Nothing was left but the other woman's gaudy dress and slippers and the strings of jewels that had once bedecked her long blonde locks.

"Sarah? What have you done?"

She smiled at the sound of Jareth's shocked voice. He'd appeared only a few feet in front of her, a wicked looking sword in one hand that now dangled toward the floor as he took in the sight of Elizabeta's empty clothing lying crumpled by his feet. "Oh, nothing much," she replied, trying her best to sound nonchalant. "Just taking care of some unfinished business." She grinned impishly. "What did _you_ come here to do?"

Jareth shifted his fingers, causing the sword to vanish. He looked decidedly nonplussed at Sarah's cheeky question, and took a moment before answering. "I…came to rescue you," he said, somewhat lamely as he tried to take in the scene before him with a difficulty verging on the impossible. Surely Sarah hadn't managed to defeat Elizabeta on her own?

Surely she had, his mind snapped back. And stop gaping, you idiot; she deserves praise for such a feat. He stepped forward in obedience to his mind's instructions and held out his arms. Sarah immediately melted into his embrace, but not into a sobbing wreck as he half-expected after what must have been an epic battle to regain her freedom. She was calm, dry eyed as she clung to him with what felt more like weariness than anything more traumatic. "Are you…all right?" he felt compelled to ask.

She leaned her head back in order to grin up at him. "Never better." Then she told him, as best she could, what had happened, even though it was obvious she had no idea how she'd done any of it. As she spoke, he saw the tapestry she described take form on the wall behind them, an apparent manifestation of her defiance and will to outwit her enemy, and resolved immediately to help her learn how to manifest it permanently for their bedchamber, or her solar. Or even for the nursery, so their child would never ever forget how brave his mother was.

Jareth opened his mouth to tell her just that when her expression altered with such abruptness he knew instantly something was wrong. He tightened his grip on her as she paled and gasped in pain. "Sarah? What's wrong?"

"Like cramps, only worse," she managed to gasp out. She stared up at him, wide-eyed. "Oh no, it can't be labor, it's too soon, isn't it?"

He offered her a reassuring smile that fooled neither of them, especially now that Sarah could read Fae expressions so much better. "Tis possibly only the shock of your battle with Elizabeta affecting you. Still…" He lifted her easily into his arms. "We will waste no more time here, Sarah. I believe you've chosen Healer Amyra to midwife you, yes?"

Without waiting for an answer, he brought Sarah directly to the healer's chambers.

Six hours later, their daughter Christabel Sarahlyvana was born, six pounds of squalling, indignant, red-faced, dark-haired Fae baby.

The most beautiful thing either of her parents had ever seen.

* * *

_A/N: Well, it's been a long, strange trip, but the end is near. One chapter left: the epilogue. I apologize for the long delays but hope ultimately that everyone enjoyed the ride._


	49. Epilogue: The Last Word

**Epilogue:** **One Month Later**

"She sleeps beautifully."

Sarah smiled to herself as she heard her husband's whispered words. "And she sleeps heavily," she said in a normal tone of voice as she reached down and tenderly adjusted the blanket covering her daughter's small form.

Her daughter. The thought still sent shivers over her; she was a mother, her baby was half-Fae—no, full Fae now. Just like Sarah herself.

That still made her dizzy when she allowed herself to think about it. She was no longer the girl she had been, she was one of the Fae, and married to the heir to the Fae throne. She had defeated a powerful Fae sorceress—with her baby's help, apparently, since it had taken their combined magic to defeat Elizabeta according to the Fae Sage who had scried the dungeon where she'd been held captive and discovered exactly how Sarah had defeated so powerful a foe—and could imagine wanting nothing more out of life than this moment, right here, right now. Jareth was right; Christabel did sleep beautifully. But then, she did everything beautifully, her darling, dark-haired daughter…

She laughed at herself, causing Jareth to gaze inquiringly into her eyes with one eyebrow quirked upward. He'd been standing behind her with his arms around her shoulders as they stared with mutual adoration at their daughter, and Sarah had to explain herself to him. "Ever since I've been Elevated, it seems like my thoughts…I think more in poetry than I did before. And alliteratively. It's…weird."

She felt him relax a little, his grip, which had tightened fractionally, easing as he tilted her face up for a gentle kiss. "Ah," was all he murmured as the kiss ended. He returned his attention to his daughter. So small, so beautiful, such a miracle…his nose wrinkled as a certain odor wafted from the vicinity of her delicate little backside. "Um, Sarah, I believe Christabel needs your attention more at this moment than I do." With that, he released his hold on his wife and beat a hasty retreat, vanishing in a cloud of suggestively deep brown sparkles laced with gold.

"Jareth, you're going to have to change her diapers one of these days!" Sarah muttered angrily at the last bit of glitter lingering in the air. Then she sighed, rolled her eyes, and uttered the exasperated, time-honored curse all women used at least once in their lives: "Men!"

Christabel's eyes popped open, and she welcomed her mother with a smile and a stream of milky drool.

Ah well. It might take Jareth a while, but Sarah was determined to drag him, kicking and screaming if need be, into the full rituals of late 20th fatherhood. Including changing diapers and midnight feedings and all the other things that couldn't just be taken care of with a snap of the fingers and the application of a little pixie dust. Or at least, the things she wouldn't allow to be taken care of that way. Jareth had been absolutely appalled when she announced her intention to do everything she could, once Christabel was born, the way mortals managed it. And she would make Jareth help out if it was the last thing she did.

She knew herself to be well up to the challenge.

A wicked little smile curled her lips as she lifted Christabel up and carried her over to the changing table.

She couldn't _wait_ to start tormenting Jareth again. Especially in bed.

Tonight, she decided. She'd spent enough time being coddled after delivering the Goblin King his heir. Her body was completely healed, according to Amyra, and Jareth was going to get a little surprise when he slipped into bed this evening.

With any luck, she thought with a wicked chuckle, the surprise _she_ received would be anything _but_ little.

**oOo**

Jareth peered cautiously around his bed chamber before fully allowing himself to manifest from the aether. Sarah and Christabel were nowhere to be seen, and he relaxed a bit. Sarah was stubbornly holding onto the human ways she'd been raised with, in spite of her newfound abilities—and quite formidable those abilities had turned out to be, well beyond anything he or the sages had expected from an Elevated mortal. Even taking into account Christabel's magic and how Sarah had been able to draw on it, it was astounding that she had been able to take Elizabeta on alone—and win.

But it wasn't his wife's newfound powers that had him acting with so much caution; it was her insistence on mortal childrearing strategies that made him so…wary. Not only did she intend to feed and clothe and change their daughter herself, she expected _him_ to do so as well! The Goblin King, changing nappies…it was unheard of, unnatural…and so very, very Sarah.

He cat-footed his way across the room, hesitating only briefly before pushing aside the tapestry that covered the entrance to the nursery. Christabel was sleeping again, presumably after Sarah had taken care of the messy job of changing her, but of his wife there was no sign. He entered the room, taking care not to wake his sleeping daughter as he approached the cradle she currently occupied. She seemed to prefer it to the larger crib, even if it wasn't rocking. She was covered by a soft pink and green blanket and her mouth was puckered, as if she'd tasted something nasty. Or as if she were remembering the disagreeable smell of her now-clean diaper.

Jareth smiled down at her, then left the room as silently as he'd entered it, glancing uncertainly at the entrance to Sarah's solar. Then, squaring his shoulders, he lifted the edge of the tapestry and peered inside, fully expecting to find her glaring at him and ready to lecture him on his fatherly responsibilities once again.

The room was unoccupied, at least by his wife. Every surface was covered with vases and pitchers of flowers, no doubt a gift from her gardener friend. Interspersed between the containers were various semi-precious gem stones, which he assumed to be presents from Ludo. He shuddered to think of what the foolish knight-errant fox would offer as a suitable gift, but didn't bother to search around to find out. Instead, he allowed the tapestry to drop, only then realizing that this was the first time Sarah had left Christabel alone in their rooms.

Alarm raised hackles along the back of his neck; before he could act on his fears, however, a low chuckle from the vicinity of the bed captured his attention, and he whirled to find Sarah lying on top of the bedclothes, very fetchingly garbed…in nothing at all. She lay on her side, allowing him a complete view of her unclothed form, a smile hovering about her lips as she leaned up on one elbow, head resting on her hand. "Looking for someone?" she asked in a husky voice.

Jareth barely remembered moving toward the bed, his eyes on his wife and glowing with an intensity that took her aback for only a moment. Then the moment passed, and she sat up, reaching out for him as he perched on the edge of the bed. He gathered her into his arms, pulling her close for a kiss that rapidly went from gentle to demanding, tongues dueling with sudden urgency. Sarah found herself drowning in the sensations of her body pressed against Jareth's, their lips so ardently tasting of one another that it was with a sensation of shock that she felt him abruptly pull away from her. "Jareth? What's wrong?"

His turned his head reluctantly to look at the tapestry covering the entrance to their sleeping daughter's chamber. "What if Christabel should awaken? What if she…hears us?"

Sarah couldn't help it; she laughed, then quickly covered her mouth with one hand when her merriment was met with a scowl. "Sorry, but it just seems so…normal. For you to worry about the baby hearing us. Which she won't," she hastened to assure him as his scowl only deepened. "I made the tapestry into a sort of one-way mirror, only instead of only being able to see through one side, you can only hear through one side; so we can hear her, but she can't hear us."

Jareth's scowl lightened the tiniest bit, but his brow was still creased with worry. "But if she awakens and needs you…"

"If she wakes up for anything other than an emergency, the nursery maids will pop into the room to feed, change or entertain her," Sarah said with grin.

Jareth's eyebrow rose. "Nursery maids?" he echoed in confusion. "I've assigned no such servants…"

"Ah, but the Goblin Queen has," Sarah replied as her grin became a wide smile. "An elite staff of three—four if you count Ambrosias," she corrected herself.

Jareth's scowl returned, even fiercer than before. "You've assigned your three pets to watch over our daughter? Those…those…" Words failed him even as Sarah laid her finger over his lips.

"Those loyal, brave _friends_ of mine," she said, enunciating each word quite clearly and with a glint of fierceness in her eyes. "Who have been helping me all along and who would never harm a hair on Christabel's head. And who've been thoroughly coached by Amyra in the care and feeding of our baby."

That, as far as Sarah was concerned was that; Jareth read her resolve in her eyes and decided that giving in gracefully would be to his benefit. For now. Later, he would have a few words with the "nursery maids," especially that bubble-headed, fox-faced, self-proclaimed knight errant of his wife's. He recalled all too vividly her complaints about the way he handled the books in the library; how she could even conceive of allowing him to lay paws on their firstborn was almost beyond comprehension…till he remembered how well the goblin had aided in bringing Toby to help rescue Sarah from her mental imprisonment.

Still, he would have words with them all, and if one hair on Christabel's precious head was harmed, there would be hell to pay.

If Sarah read his intentions in his face, she wisely kept her thoughts to herself, choosing instead to bring him back to the moment his worries had interrupted by placing his hand on one of her breasts in a pointed manner. "Hey, remember me?" she murmured, leaning forward to plant a series of delicate kisses along his jawline.

"Always," he growled, pressing her back against the bedclothes and bestowing a series of nips and kisses of his down the column of her throat, eliciting a squeal of pleasure from her that only served to further inflame him.

His own clothing vanished, and Jareth gazed down at his wife in mock dismay. "Woman, do you not think me capable of removing my own garments?"

"You were taking too long," she complained, arching her back so her breasts brushed against his now-bare chest. She wiggled, just a tiny bit, and all thought of mock-anger and conversation fled as Jareth answered her unspoken invitation, bringing his lips to the rosy peaks and making Sarah squeal even more as he took each in turn into his mouth.

Sarah wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding her hips into his, begging without words for Jareth to enter her, to bring her pleasure as only he knew how. She'd never been with another man, and never wanted to have anyone to compare him to. He was hers, her Goblin King, her demon lover, all she ever wanted even when she was too young to fully understand such things.

Jareth took her mouth in his for another passionate kiss as he gave in to his wife's silent demands and eased himself into her. By the Gods, he'd never been with anyone who came close to comparing; was this the result of love, or just something about Sarah herself? _What matter,_ he thought briefly, his last coherent thought for a long, long time. _Tis one and the same, Sarah and love, love and Sarah._

With Sarah and Christabel in his life, everything was different, nothing would ever be the same again.

Just as he liked it.

* * *

_A/N: Well, here it is, the final chapter. But take heart; I am working on not one but two new Laby stories and will post them as soon as I finish my other three unfinished works in progress I have posted. The titles will be "Forbidden Fruit" (rated M and full of angst) and "Lady of the Labyrinth" (probably rated T and much more romantic than smexy). Ta for now, and thanks for reading and reviewing!_


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